


Highway to Hell One-Shots

by montecarlogirl87



Series: Highway to Hell [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Come Eating, Come Sharing, Double Penetration, F/M, Handcuffs, Prostate Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlogirl87/pseuds/montecarlogirl87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote these a year-ish after I finished my HTH series. I just missed writing Dean/Monte...so, I wrote some smuttlets...with two gen one-shots acting like bookends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cuddly Wuddly

Dean had been digging through Monte’s trunk, trying to locate her .45 that had jammed at the last shooting range, planning on breaking it down and cleaning it for her when his hand hit something soft.  
  
Something soft and fuzzy.  
  
He opened the bag to find a stuffed Dalmatian in all its spotted glory.  
  
He smacked his head on the trunk when he stood up too fast, black and white  _stuffed fucking anima_ l held in his hand.  
  
Monte. His Monte. Kick ass, car loving, rock ‘n’ roll chick that he had fallen in love with and fought beside more times than he could count had a stuffed  _Dalmatian_ of all ever-loving things hidden in her trunk.

The pure mischief that was all but dripping from his grin should have been her first clue, even if it wasn’t, the way he held his hand just so behind his back had her arching her brow over the dog eared Chevy Power magazine she had been flipping through.  
  
“Something I should know?”  
  
Dean couldn’t trust his voice, so he just shook his head, his eyes crinkling around the edges with a grin so wide it was actually starting to hurt.  
  
Her brow stayed arched as he strutted,  _outright strutted_ , over to the bed, sitting down carefully, concealing his prize.  
  
“Dean…”  
  
He couldn’t hold it back any longer and thrust the stuffed dog in her face.  
  
The way the magazine jerked in her hands and her eyes widened in a split second of embarrassment and shock was so worth the crack on the head he had self inflicted on himself.  
  
“Mind explaining this?” he smirked, chuckle just out of reach but still oozing into his tone as he shook it in her face.  
  
“No.”  
  
He snorted, “Why the hell do you have a stuffed animal?”  
  
He really couldn’t see past the whole hilariousness of the situation to see that she was deadly serious about it, and just as the spark managed to jump the synapse in his brain and the corners of his mouth finally twitched a fraction down she snatched the dog out of his hand and wrapped her arms around it.  
  
“Gives me something to hold onto when I sleep,” she said, batting her eyes, sickly sweet smile pointed in his direction.  
  
“We’ve been together for months and I haven’t seen that thing.”  
  
He had to hand it to her, he thought he had had the blackmail card of the century… _wrong._  
  
She pinched his cheek so hard, shaking his whole face before he could even register the movement.  
  
“Now why would I need him when I have my big ol’ cuddly-wuddly Dean teddy-wheddy bear,” she cooed, all sarcasm filled baby talk.  
  
He glared.  
  
“I’m not a friggin’ teddy bear,” he grumbled, rubbing his now sore cheek.  
  
Monte just smiled, “Whatever you say honey bunny.”  
  
Dean was a lot of things, stupid was not one of them…okay, so maybe he could be a little dense, definitely qualified as slow sometimes, but not stupid, and he knew she had his ass beat.  
  
“Whatever,” he mumbled, getting up.  
  
He was not however expecting the hard  _thwack_  of that thing’s rock of a plastic nose colliding with the back of his skull.  
  
“And don’t go nosing through my shit,” Monte grinned.  
  
Dean just rolled his eyes, gingerly rubbing the back of his head, the first signs of a bump already beginning to form before stalking off to resume his search for the gun.  
  
And if he had  _maybe_  snuggled into the cushy fur when she had jammed it between the two of them that night in bed, her own nose buried in its head as she slept peacefully there was no way in  _hell_  Dean was ever going to admit it.


	2. Beautiful Mess

Dean came in just as Sam was stuffing his laptop into his bag and his feet into his sneakers.  
  
“Where are you going?”  
  
“Library,” Sam shot back, looking up from tucking his untied laces down inside his shoes.  
  
Dean grinned ear to ear, “Good, me and Monte got some things we need to do.”  
  
Sam groaned, “Dude, I do not wanna hear about it, she’s like my sister remember?”  
  
Monte just smiled, “Here Sam, take my car,” she offered, tossing the keys to him which he caught effortlessly.  
  
“So…” Dean started as Sam finished packing some paper and pens, making a move towards the door.  
  
“You trust me?” he asked, pulling a blindfold from behind him.

Monte arched her brow.  
  
“As long as you don’t put me on the front of the Impala and tell me you’re the king of the world.”  
  
Dean’s face went from zero to confused in five seconds flat, turning to glare at Sam as he barked out his laughter and disappeared through the door, the rumble of the Monte Carlo disappearing from the parking lot a moment later.  
  
“Am I missing something?”  
  
Monte laughed, “Why do you have a blindfold Dean?”  
  
His grin was back and she crossed her arms, staring him down.  
  
His fingers hooked into her belt loops, undeterred by her stance as he pulled her into him.  
  
“Do you trust me?” he ground out, in a tone so low and deep it should be illegal in at least a dozen states Monte thought.  
  
She stared at him a moment, judging her choices and finally sighed and closed her eyes.  
  
Dean beamed, slipping the cloth across her eyes and tying it behind her head, kissing her softly before pulling back and taking her hand, leading her outside and into the Impala.

* * *

 

She was half tempted to pull the blindfold off, laughing at Dean several times throughout the drive, but whatever it was, she could tell was important to him, so she kept her eyes closed and the cloth in place.  
  
She could feel the shift in temperature as they drove, dusk setting in and cooling the air. She could hear the lazy drone of bugs echoing in the impending darkness and she curled up in the cool leather seat, resting her head on Dean’s shoulder.  
  
His quick brush of a kiss against her forehead erupted goose bumps down her arms, the light touch catching her off guard due to the fact that she hadn’t seen it coming.  
  
Dean chuckled lightly, maneuvering his arm around her shoulders and rubbing away the tingle on her arms.  
  
Finally she heard the tires leave the beat up black top and started crunching through gravel and grass.  
  
She sat up, cracking her neck as Dean maneuvered the black car off road.   
  
When the big Chevy finally rocked to a stop, she waited until Dean came around, taking her hands and helping her out, before slowly leading her away from the car.  
  
“Dean, what the hell are we doing?”  
  
“Nothin,’ just c’mon.”  
  
She paused for a split second when her boot clunked on what sounded like wood after walking so far across grass.  
  
A few more steps and he put a hand on her waist to halt her.  
  
She felt him move towards her, the heat from his body and the smell of leather and pure Dean drowning her senses as he came up close.  
  
She sighed when his lips brushed against hers as his hand came up to tug the knot free from the blindfold behind her head.  
  
She gasped against his lips when she saw where they were.  
  
Dean had found a dock out in the middle of nowhere, stretched out over a perfectly clear lake, a blanket draped across the old wood and the entire perimeter lined with candles that she was just now noticing the scent of, a mix of vanilla and sugar and just a hint of lavender, all of which were her favorites.  
  
“Oh my god…” she whispered, eyes welling with unshed tears.  
  
Dean never broke his gaze from her face, his fingers idly playing with the blindfold in his hand, a nervous gesture he wasn’t even aware of.  
  
“Dean…I…why?” she whispered, locking her eyes back on his.  
  
“Don’t tell me you forgot,” he rumbled, sadness and disappointment clouding his green eyes.  
  
“You’re the girl here,” he joked, a forcing a smirk across his face.  
  
“Of course not,” she whispered, “I just…I didn’t think you would,” she added, with her own smile.  
  
Their anniversary was kind of a shady grey area, due to the fact of how they met and how it had all just fallen into place, no clear cut beginning, but the fact that he had actually made the effort to remember the specific week had her throat constricting.  
  
Dean shifted his feet nervously, looking down and stuffing the blindfold into his pocket until she grabbed his chin and brought his eyes back to hers.  
  
She didn’t say anything, just leaned in pressing a soft kiss on his lips, resting her forehead against his and looping her arms around his neck when they broke.  
  
“God Dean,” she sighed, running her hands down over his shoulders and onto his chest.  
  
He grunted a reply that vaguely sounded like “C’mon” but ended up too constricted in his throat to actually form the word as he took her hand and brought her over to the spread out blanket.  
  
Once he was standing there his cocksure demeanor seemed to leave him in a rush and he was left with a vulnerable shadow of himself.  
  
“Dean,” she said softly, gripping his chin and pulling him back into a kiss.  
  
This he could do. This he was comfortable with, sure of.  
  
His hand slipped under her shirt, burning against the small of her back.  
  
She moaned against his lips as his fingers kneaded against her, letting her arms slip up to loop around his neck before breaking their kiss and resting her forehead against his.  
  
“I can’t believe you did all this,” she whispered.  
  
His eyes met hers slowly and he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his tightened throat.  
  
Finally he let out a forced huff a chuckle, and even Monte could tell he was trying to slip back into the bad boy role.  
  
She watched the slides flip through his eyes. He was trying to slip the mask back in place, play this whole Lifetime movie off like it wasn’t his idea, like he hadn’t been  _planning_ this for god’s sake.  
  
He was trying, but the mask wouldn’t fit right, it was there, but askew, letting her still see past it, at him, the real him. The side of him only Sammy and herself ever got to see but the side he would deny even possessing to his dying day.  
  
“Kinda feel like a pussy,” he finally said quietly, accepting that his fumbling attempt at pushing this all aside, hiding it in a box trapped in his psyche labeled “too exposed” was resulting in failure and that despite his attempts she was still staring at him,  _through_ him.  
  
She just smiled barely, a soft upturning at the corners of her kiss swollen mouth and held his eyes.   
  
She could try explaining to him that there was nothing wrong with  _this_. With letting yourself show that other side sometimes. Reassuring him that she wasn’t going to hurt him, never would, she’d die first. She could try telling him that she loved that he had gone to all this trouble, all for her.   
  
She could break down in tears and wax poetically about how much it all meant to her, but it wouldn’t be anything he didn’t already know.   
  
And things like this, things that quivered just underneath the surface of your skin, singeing nerve endings and burning their way past your heart and straight into your soul never leant themselves easily to words.  
  
And Dean was always a man of actions anyways.  
  
His eyes were flicking back and forth between hers, caught off guard by her slow smile and even stare and when she leaned in feathering a kiss over his lips he inhaled sharp and quick, letting his eyes flutter closed.  
  
He could feel her hands slide down his arms, palms flat against the leather before she twined her fingers with his and eased herself down onto the blanket, pulling him along with her.  
  
His knees bracketed her hips, hitting with a muted thunk against the wood of the dock and he settled his hands beside her head as she laid back.  
  
Her hands slipped underneath the warm leather, sweeping up over his shoulders to finally cradle his neck as he shifted his weight to his thighs, hips pushing against her own, flat stomach flush against hers.  
  
The muscles in his forearms constricted and corded as he lowered his chest to brush against her, kissing her slowly and moaning when her fingers threaded their way through his hair.  
  
He was always worried when he did this, concerned he’d crush her under his bulk. Monte wasn’t a fragile girl by any means, but laying his full body weight on top of her always made him uneasy, mind skidding over wondering if she could breathe, if he was cutting off circulation, hurting her somehow.  
  
She liked it though, always had, and had told him as much on several occasions. The feel of his solid body, muscle honed by hard work and determination. Something about feeling that weight, feeling the restrained power against her always made her feel safe, ironically enough.   
  
She always knew that despite the fact that she could more than handle herself, he could overpower her in an instant if he really wanted to. And knowing that power, coiled and kept beneath the surface was there, but that he would never use it against her always sent her stomach into a freefall and her heart into convulsions.  
  
Her breath hitched, fingers digging deeper into his hair and his weight immediately shifted to his knees, already levering himself up onto his elbows.  
  
“Don’t,” she whispered, fingers idly playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck as she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him back down onto her, before letting her hands slide down over his chest to run back up under the jacket, pushing it off of his shoulders.  
  
He took the hint, slipping it off and laying it off to the side. Before he could brace himself over her again she was tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, he smirked and pulled that off as well.  
  
She tightened her legs around his hips where they were still wrapped and used him as an anchor, pulling herself upright to slip her own t-shirt over her head.  
  
He swallowed hard again at the look in her eyes before she leaned forward and sucked on his nipple.  
  
His gasp ground its way over the gravel in his throat transforming it into a growl before he gently pushed her away from him.  
  
“Not tonight,” he whispered, slipping his hand into the hollow between her shoulder blades, fingers just barely skimming over the muscles there, fingertips pressed in, lowering her back down onto the blanket.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
“Not tonight,” he said again quietly, “tonight’s about you.”  
  
“Dean you…”  
  
“Sshh,” he hissed, breath vibrating against her lips. “Just…just let me do this,” he rumbled, and it was her this time that swallowed hard, letting her head ease back as she relaxed underneath him.  
  
He sighed before meeting her eyes again and leaning down into another kiss. She arched her back, letting his hand slip behind her to unclasp her bra and shivered when the material was pulled away and replaced with cool night air.  
  
His hand trembled as he ran it up her side, thumb sliding over the ridges of ribs before cupping the swell of her breast, but his lips were steady, breaking away from her own to lay a kiss on the corner of her sigh. Nuzzling against her he peppered them over her cheek, trailing up her jaw line to her ear where he drug the lobe through his teeth before tucking his nose into the crook of her jaw and burned a line of kisses down her neck, sweeping across her throat to the other side.  
  
He could feel the expansion and collapse of her ribs under his hand, pulse beating fast and thready under his fingertips. His hair brushed against her chin when he dropped his head and sucked a blossom of blood to the surface in the hollow of her throat.  
  
She buried her fingers in his hair, breathing in the hint of motel shampoo and a tinge of sweat and his sigh got lost somewhere in the rumble of his chest, his mouth still attached to her skin.  
  
Her back arched against his, his own body bowing to follow the curve of hers when he finally dropped his head and took her nipple into his mouth.  
  
The hushed prayer that came from her lips in the form of his name sent a shiver down his spine and he moaned around the bud that was still between his lips before shifting over to show the twin the same attention.  
  
His fingers skimmed over her skin, dragging slowly down towards her stomach, tremors shuddering underneath the soft surface. He finally broke away from her breast just to return to her lips, slipping his tongue between them, licking inside her mouth.  
  
He rolled his forehead against hers, eyes clenched as tight as his heart as he shared his breath with her, fingers popping the button loose on her jeans, tugging the zipper down slowly, the muted sound getting lost in the hum and buzz of bugs of the night around them.  
  
His lashes stuck together as he finally blinked his eyes open at her, glancing up through mussed spiked bangs to stare at her with green eyes tinged gold in the candlelight. The shudder belonged to him when he finally slipped his finger though the opening of her jeans and slid easily against her body, its way already slicked with wetness.  
  
“Dean,” she whispered, being cut off when he leaned in and kissed her again.   
  
He trailed kisses down her neck again, licking at the red spot that still burned between her collar bones before continuing over her heaving ribs, nipping at the edge of her belly button before, sitting himself up on his knees so he could peel the denim from her body.  
  
Her fingers dug into his jean covered thigh, knuckles white against the solid muscle, and he took her hand, bringing it up to his face to plant a kiss on her palm before he put it on the top of his head and lowered himself down between her thighs, holding her eyes the entire time.  
  
The sweep of stubble across the tender inside of her thigh had her opening herself to him, back bowed, head thrown back. He slid his finger slowly, all the way from the top, pausing to rub gently against her clit before slipping it down and just barely into her body.  
  
Her fingers tightened in his hair where he had lain them. He kissed her softly and slid his hand under and around her thigh. Before she could process the movement he managed to drop his shoulder, twisting his whole body, arms wrapped around her hips until she too had flipped over with him, her knees planted on either side of his head where he laid on his back. She instantly reacted levering herself up onto her hands.  
  
He gave her no time to recover from the sudden flip and both hands swept up over the back of her thighs, pausing briefly on the swell of her ass before slipping up to the small of her back and literally bringing her down onto his mouth.  
  
“Jesus,” she hissed, dropping her head, curtain of hair falling over her eyes as her back arched between the cool night air and the wet heat of his mouth.  
  
He moaned against her, hands tightening on her back trying to draw her further down onto him.  
  
She rocked back on her knees, bringing herself upright in a desperate attempt to draw oxygen into her lungs.  
  
She inhaled shakily and finally looked down at him, nearly losing it all. His eyes were closed, arms wrapped around her legs and looked like he was getting off on just doing this for her.  
  
“Shit,” she hissed, hips bucking against his face as he swept his tongue down the length of her before pushing it inside, eyes snapping open to stare at her.  
  
Her spine went liquid and her hand swung back to catch herself, landing on his stomach, slipping against the fine sheen of sweat and it took her a minute to realize his muscles were jumping underneath her palm, his hips working against thin air.  
  
Eyelids fluttering, trying to stay open, her free hand slid into his damp hair. The second her fingers slid against his scalp his eyes fell shut again and he craned his neck up, burying his face deeper against her and she could feel his abs tighten under her hand, hips bucking as he moaned against her.  
  
“Fuck,” she whispered, fingers pulling against his short spikes, he  _was_  getting off on this.  
  
His eyes opened again, catching hers and before she could process anything beyond the dancing gold light in his eyes he shoved his tongue into her, fingers tightening against her, keeping her from bolting upright as it all came crashing down.  
  
“Shit,” she panted, body rocking against him, one hand landing with a hard thunk next to his head and the second flying forward to dig into his arm where it was wrapped around her. “Fuck…Dean… _god_ …”  
  
She was still trying to rise off him, the sensation of his mouth, his hands, the whole damn situation becoming too much. Some sort of thick drug that was sluggishly making its way through her veins, refusing to burn off. His hands just tightened on her hips, keeping her against him, slower licks, light kisses until the burn turned into a buzz that left her feeling strung out, raw and on the edge of passing out and it wasn’t until then that he gently guided her knee over his head so she could roll to the side and lay down beside him. Instantly rolling with her, hand sweeping soothing circles over her hip as her breath evened out, eyes clenched tight against the world.  
  
“You okay baby?” he asked, voice nothing more than a soft rumble.  
  
Monte finally managed to crack her eyes open, feeling like he deserved some sort of response, but all her mind could manage to comprehend was the way the candles made the wetness on his face shine.  
  
“Fuck,” she whispered, head falling back again.  
  
She could feel the rumble of a chuckle in his chest as he pulled himself back over her.  
  
“Damn baby, did I render you speechless?”  
  
Her eyes cracked open, pinning him with a half-hearted glare.  
  
“Shut up,” she grinned, unsteady hand coming up to run a finger through the slick on his chin and she smiled when his grin faded, jaw clenched and he swallowed hard.  
  
Slipping her hand behind his head and into the sweaty fine hair at the nape of his neck she pulled him down, kissing him softly, swiping her tongue over his lips and chin before shoving it in his mouth, sharing the salty twang.  
  
His full body shiver was so worth it.  
  
She broke the kiss reluctantly and kept her hand at the back of his neck, resting his forehead against her own as she still struggled to even out her breathing.  
  
When she finally opened her eyes again Dean was staring straight at her. She expected to see urgency, Dean was never good at sitting still, or maybe just full blown lust seeing as he was still hard pressed against the inside of his jeans but he just kept his forehead against hers, eyes locked together in total silence.  
  
There was a soft look to him in this light and she shivered under him, eyes slipping closed for a split second when his hand came up to cup her cheek. She always knew he had this side, he had let it slip and show enough times that she knew it the same way she knew the demon fighting rogue side. But seeing him lay himself bare like this, letting it all out, eyes empty of anything but love and focus on this moment alone...every thought she had was stripped clean and erased and all that mattered anymore was  _this night._ This was  _theirs._  
  
She smiled, slow and soft, holding his eyes before pulling him down into another tender kiss, sighing against him as he tangled his fingers in her hair, his other hand burning hot against her shoulder, stomach slick with sweat pressed against her own.  
  
He didn’t even startle when her hand slipped between them, reaching for the button of his jeans, he just shifted his weight enough to his knees to lift his hips and give her room to get it undone, the sound of the zipper coming down following a split second later.  
  
He did shudder when her hand slipped inside, awkward soft stroke in the confined space, pre-cum smearing across her wrist.  
  
He groaned into her kiss, breaking away to bury his face in the crook of her neck when she removed her hand. He met her eyes again when he felt her tug at the belt loops, edging the jeans down of his hips but not being able to reach far enough.  
  
Reluctantly he pulled away from her, feeling cold as soon as he was away from her body and eased out of his pants, laying them off to the side by his jacket before lying himself back on top of her.  
  
She sighed, chest pushing against his as his weight settled back down and he dropped his head to lick at the red bruise that he had sucked into the hollow of her throat earlier.  
  
This time when her hand went to his head it wasn’t tight and pulling, she softly thread her fingers through his hair, holding him to her until he tilted his head up to look at her, chin resting against her chest.  
  
He braced himself on his forearms, just enough to give himself room to maneuver while still leaving most of his weight on top of her and eased himself back up to eye level, kissing her slow, tongue sweeping lazily across her lips, asking for permission.  
  
Her own lips parted with a sigh, letting him enter and he never stopped kissing her as he shifted, letting one hand trail down her side, leaving shivers in its wake to cup her hip, palm running over the sharp jut of bone before slipping under her thigh, letting him settle in the cradle of her hips.  
  
He finally did break the kiss, staring at her as he slid slowly and carefully into her, her body still wrung out and burning hot from before.  
  
She wanted to throw her head back, sigh against him and revel in the feeling but something about the way he was staring at her had her eyelids fluttering to stay open and locked with his.  
  
He eased forward, short smooth strokes, feeling her drag against him and she could feel the shiver trail down his spine under her fingertips.  
  
“It’s okay Dean,” she whispered, knowing he wanted this to last but being able to feel how much it was taking him to hold back at the same time.  
  
He closed his eyes, rubbing his nose against hers before sealing his mouth over hers, kissing her softly in a sharp contrast to the sudden power that was behind his thrusts.  
  
It was still slow and languid, still strung out and raw in a way that had them both trembling somewhere on the edge of not quite enough and too damn much but the power was there, the force behind each snap of his hips had him bottoming out inside her, as far as he could go, balls drawn up tight against his body slapping against the slick wetness between her thighs.  
  
It didn’t take long before she could feel the tremor buzzing underneath his skin, muscles strained against holding back. She was right there with him, he could feel the flutter pulse of her around him and held back his own pleasure for just the few more roll of his hips that it took for her to clench around him.  
  
Her back arched against him, ribs tight under his weight, stomach clenched, body tightening so hard that he had to push harder, piston his hips into her those last few moments until he let himself fall with her.  
  
He collapsed on top of her, few last shuddering jerks filling her with warmth and he finally let out a shaky breath against her neck, face buried against her shoulder.  
  
They laid in silence until their sweat started to cool and Dean finally eased himself from her body, grabbing the extra blanket that had been off to the side and bundling them together under the stars.  
  
He kissed the ball of her shoulder, palm sweeping circles over her stomach and she rolled into him, slotting herself up against him, nose tucked under his chin.  
  
“I love you,” she whispered, damp kiss against his collar bone.  
  
He grinned against the top of her hair, arms tightening around her, “I love you too,” he said quietly.  
  
He shifted slightly onto his back, letting her drape over him and eyed her curiously when she stretched her hand out, fingers dancing just above the heat of the flame on the candle closest to them.  
  
“I still can’t believe you did all this,” she said quietly. She felt Dean swallow under her, already anticipating a humorous comeback but was startled when his voice came quietly.  
  
“I looked like a damn fool.”  
  
Her brow furrowed and she curled herself up onto her elbow so she could see his eyes.  
  
“Took forever to find those things, went to a half dozen stores, sniffing everything. I swear my nose is still messed up.”  
  
She laughed softly at the mental image of Dean in his leather jacket, scuffed boots and torn jeans in the middle of an upscale store sniffing row after row of candles.  
  
“Yeah, go ahead and laugh,” he grinned. The teasing was there, but what he had said meant more than that, his tone made that perfectly clear.  
  
She leaned up, kissing him softly, holding his eyes for a moment before resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder.  
  
“Can we keep ‘em?” she asked, grin spreading across his chest.  
  
He chuckled softly, “Might as well, I paid for ‘em.”  
  
“But you tell Sam and I’ll kill you,” he winked, pulling her into another kiss.


	3. The Heat I See in Your Eyes

She was warm, and comfortable and safe. Only a few birds chirping off in the distance as if they could convince the sun to rise a little faster.  
  
She sighed, curled up in the blanket, the smooth velvety scent of vanilla and lavender still soft in the air.  
  
Until Dean splashed her with cold water.  
  
“What the fuck!”  
  
There was an ungraceful twist in the blankets, half trying to cover herself, half trying to get free of it so she could _kick his ass._  
  
Dean just laughed and swam a few more feet away from the dock where Monte had been sleeping.  
  
“C’mon babe, it’s nice and warm now that the sun’s coming up,” he grinned.  
  
She glared, rubbing at her face with her hand. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Aww, you don’t mean that,” he smiled, dipping underneath the water and she watched his distorted form under the clear surface until he emerged next to the dock again, crossing his arms across the worn wood and holding himself afloat.  
  
She tried to be mad, really, but well…considering how much trouble Dean had gone to set up this whole lakeside night under the stars anniversary for them…and the childish grin he now sported, eyelashes dripping water, hair slick against his head…she really couldn’t find it in herself to care.  
  
“C’mon,” he smiled, wiping at the water on his face, shoulder dipping under the water before he reached out and playfully tugged on her ankle. “C’mere,” he rumbled.  
  
And really, who could resist that?  
  
She untangled herself from the blanket, edging herself over to the water and draping her legs over the side on either side of him, cool water enveloping her calves.  
  
Dean grinned, planting his hands on the dock and pulling himself out of the water high enough to kiss her.   
  
She grinned against him, hands sliding over the slick corded muscles of his arms as he strained to hold himself up before he broke with a laugh and let himself go, crashing back under the surface.  
  
She laughed, not really caring when she got soaked by the water and shook her head at him as he came back up, mile wide grin and wiping water from his face.  
  
His eyes fell to half mast, his smile fading as the water parted around him and he came back to rest between her knees, warm hands wrapped around the back of her calves, sharp contrast to the cool water.  
  
He tugged once, sliding her closer to the edge and her breath hitched, fingers slipping through his hair to hold his bangs out of the way as he dipped his head down and kissed her.  
  
“Dean,” she whispered, holding him between her thighs. The burning heat of his mouth warred against the cool lake water that was dripping off his hair and hands and onto her bare skin. He took one slow swipe, fingers digging into the muscles of her legs when she trembled. Took one long drag on her clit, moaning just to watch and feel the vibration set her off and then looked up at her, eyes open and full of innocence that was nothing but a lie and kissed her.   
  
He left his mouth, his nose, snug against her and kissed her again, warm breath nothing more than a teasing promise. She could feel his lips move against her, and even though the pressure, the sweet drag of his tongue had disappeared, something about the way he was so content to just float there, locked between her knees, face buried in her, like there was nowhere he’d rather be had her chest heaving harder.  
  
His pupils were blown wide open, green jade of his irises nothing but a thin frame and she let her hand slip down to the back of his skull, added just the barest amount of pressure, barest hint, command for him to continue, and he did.  
  
He held her eyes, letting her guide him forward, and increased the pressure, his hands shifting upwards, just barely out of the water, slick fingers digging into the back of her knees and practically pulled himself closer to her. He didn’t give in though, just continued kissing her, letting his lips play over her soft skin, sweet musk sliding into the crisp taste of clean water.  
  
Despite the slow burn, the urge to shove forward, increase the pressure that he was teasing her with, she held his eyes and held back. Draped in water, the sun just beginning to crest over the horizon and send light dancing over the ripples, the satin silver of dawn gave everything, especially him, a soft muted feel.  
  
Dean slipped his hands from her legs and up onto the dock again, water bleeding into the silver gray wood and he hauled himself back out of the water to kiss her.  
  
She sighed against him, hand slipping up into his hair, legs wrapping around his hips, trying to help him hold himself up.  
  
The smirk he gave her hitched her breath. There was nothing teasing or sarcastic about it. She had seen Dean smirk a thousand times in a thousand different ways but this one was different and she eased her head back just enough to let him drag his lips down her neck, her hand sliding down his shoulder blade, nails raking across his back.  
  
His arms flexed as he eased himself back down slowly, muscles tight and just barely shaking from the strain. He licked softly over the red mark he left on her throat last night, now turning a pale purple-blue and drug his teeth across her chest before swirling his tongue around her nipple and sucking it into his mouth.  
  
Her back bowed against him, abs tight as she leaned back slowly, laying herself down, letting him work his way down as he slid back into the water.  
  
He nipped his way across her stomach, taking one soft swipe against her center before the awkward angle made him let go and he slipped back into the lake, bobbing gently, light dancing over the thin sheen of water that slipped up over his shoulders and chest before gliding off, hands coming back up to grip and knead the back of her calves.  
  
The cool mixed with the burning under her skin as he slipped his hands over her thighs, wrapping them around her hips and slid her off the dock and into his arms, her legs automatically hooking around his waist.  
  
He leaned back into the water, letting her drape herself over him and wrapped his arms around her waist.  
  
She leaned against him, resting her forehead against his and sighed, sharing a soft smile with him, fingers playing idly with the wet soft hair at the nape of his neck and the knot of his necklace.  
  
He held her eyes when she let her legs drop from around his hips and let her hands run down over his chest before she pushed herself away from him.  
  
He tread water, waiting to see what she would do and watched her slip herself under the water, dragging fingers through her hair.  
  
His chest tightened when he watched her through the wrinkles of the water as she eased up next to him, dragging her lips and tongue over his cock, kissing the tip, running her tongue over the slit and tasting salt even through the water before she surfaced again, hands trailing up over his hips to his abs and sweeping over his pecs, the sudden wet chill causing his nipples to harden against her palms.  
  
His hands came up wiping the water and hair out of her eyes and he cupped her face, bringing her back against him for a kiss, sighing into her mouth when she wrapped her legs back around him, the heat in between her thighs burning against his shaft in a biting contrast to the cool water.  
  
He backpedaled, just far enough where he could sink his feet into the soft silt at the bottom of the lake and gain footing and twirled her through the water, bringing her back to the dock.  
  
She felt the line of wood behind her and slipped her arms from around his neck, elbows going back to prop herself up on the wood, holding her body out of the water even with his, legs still locked around him.  
  
He stepped forward, pushing himself against her and smirked when her eyes fluttered closed, head tipping back.  
  
He let his hands slip up her thighs from where they were around his waist, sliding up out of the water to leave wet streaks up her hips, hands splayed wide and strong across her abs, thumbs kneading into the soft muscled wall of her stomach. His eyes drank in the sight of his hands against her skin and looked up to meet her eyes, blue-grey sparkling in the soft dawn light, ripples off the water throwing sparks across their depths and he had to swallow hard before leaning forward, meeting her in a kiss, letting his hands reach upward, cupping the heavy weight of her breasts in his hands, fingers digging in, thumbs dragging across her nipples and making her arch into his touch, moan into his mouth, her reaction shooting a line of burning need straight to his dick.  
  
She sighed into his kiss, rolling her hips against him and smiling at the way his breath stuttered and he broke away from her lips to hide his face against the crook of her shoulder.  
  
She hitched her hips up just enough to feel him slip into place, swollen head nudging up against her slick heat. He lifted his head, eyes heavy lidded and caught her gaze, holding her eyes as his hands shifted back down to her hips, fingers leaving white pressure shadows as he held her in place and eased his way inside of her, shuddering at the feel of his shaft slowly disappearing from the cool water into her burning depths.  
  
His breath was ragged when he was finally seated fully inside her, eyes still locked on each other. She shifted her weight to one arm, reaching up to run her fingers over the shell of his ear, palm rasping against the stubble on his cheek and it wasn’t until then that he closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, her body pinned between him and the dock.  
  
She rocked her hips slowly, urging him on and he kissed her softly, toes digging into the soft lake bottom as he pushed up into her.  
  
She groaned low in her chest, reaching forward to wrap her arm around his neck, slippery hand grappling for purchase across his back. Her other elbow dug against the wood, hand gripping against his arm. She let her head fall forward into the crook of his shoulder, turning to the side so she could nuzzle and kiss across his neck, tongue dragging over the leather cord of his necklace.  
  
He buried his own face against her and rocked back, groaning at the sudden loss of heat before thrusting back in. She moaned, biting at his collarbone and rolled her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, nails digging into his back as he slowly sped up his pace, strong piston of his hips causing the water to dance around them.  
  
He could feel the hot blasts of air as she panted against his neck and he licked a slow swipe across her shoulder, salty twang of sweat across his tongue. His feet dug deeper into the muddy lake bed, pushing harder and deeper into her until he could feel her tremble underneath his palms, flutter-pulse under his fingertips.  
  
He pulled her back into a kiss, rolling his forehead against hers, panting breaths shared between them as they struggled to breathe, lips chasing back and forth, grazing as they jerked against each other.  
  
“Dean…” she sighed, his name being the first word she had said since they started this thing and he felt the spike go down his spine, felt his balls draw up, felt his thighs tremble.  
  
“Cum for me baby,” he breathed, eyes cracked open to stare at her as she fell apart around him, in his arms.  
  
The aftershocks and shivers of her climax still hadn’t ceased when he groaned low in his throat, arms wrapped tight around her waist, pulling her down onto him the last couple final strokes it took for him to spill inside her.  
  
They stayed like that, locked together, ripples spreading out like echoes of every deep breath they took as the let their racing hearts calm.  
  
She stared at him, his eyes closed, lashes fanned out over his cheeks, mouth swollen and parted. He finally hitched a broken sigh, opening his eyes to stare back at her.  
  
Finally after a minute in silence, content to just be there together he smirked and leaned forward, kissing her gently.  
  
“Better get packed up and head back before Sammy sends out the search party,” he rumbled, low vibration through her chest.  
  
She just smiled.


	4. Cowboys and Angels

“Come on Dean, walking two blocks isn’t gonna kill you.”  
  
“No, no it won’t, but why the hell can’t we take the Impala?”  
  
“Because we don’t  _need_ to take the Impala.”  
  
Sam chuckled behind them, nose buried in a novel that Monte had bought for him at the last rest stop. He was actually enjoying it.  
  
Dean turned and pointed a finger at his younger brother, “Shut it.”  
  
By the time he turned back around Monte had her patented pout firmly in place.  
  
Dean groaned, Sam and his puppy eyes and Monte and her pout, two things he could never turn down.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Monte burst into a grin and yanked Dean out the door, damn near yanking his arm out of socket in the process.

Dean was halfway across the bar’s porch and towards the door when he noticed Monte, who had been the one begging and pleading for him to accompany her to said bar, had disappeared from behind him.  
  
“Monte?”  
  
When a couple of roughnecks pushed through the doors, eyeing him cautiously he smiled at them before shuffling away.  
  
“Monte!” he hissed.  
  
“What?” she whispered back, her head appearing for a moment between a couple cars before disappearing again.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” he rumbled, marching over to her.  
  
“Nothing, watch my back.”  
  
“Watch your…”  
  
He leaned over her shoulder, seeing her working deftly with the lock pick he distinctly remembered being in  _his_  pocket, on the door of a pickup.  
  
He patted his jacket down; frowning when he realized the lock pick was indeed from his own jacket.  
  
“You lifted my lock pick off me?”  
  
She threw a cocky grin over her shoulder as the door to the truck popped open.  
  
“Get in,” she smiled, unlocking the passenger door before leaning over and hotwiring the truck.  
  
“What?!”  
  
“Dean, either shut up and get in or I’m leaving you here and I promise you, you are not going to be happy about that decision…not for weeks,” she glared.  
  
His brow furrowed as his mouth worked silently trying to figure out what the hell she was up to when the growl of the engine started and she slammed the door in his face.  
  
He had all of about two seconds to run around the front of the pickup and jump in before she jammed it in reverse and tore out of the parking lot.  
  
At least five minutes later, five silent minutes of driving down equally as silent back roads, Dean finally piped up.  
  
“Mind telling me what’s going through that cracked head of yours?”  
  
He had to admit, the devious grin he received kind of creeped him out.  
  
“You’ll see.”  
  
“Why do I not feel good about this?”  
  
She just chuckled before taking the truck off road and started driving through some open fields.  
  
He had one hand on the dash, keeping him in his seat at the truck bounced and rocked over the uneven ground.  
  
Finally after about another five minutes of driving, taking them so deep into the apparently vacant land that they could no longer see any of the surrounding roads, she pulled up along side a tree line and shut the truck off, leaving the radio playing softly on some country station.  
  
She just looked over at him, mile wide grin.  
  
His hand was still on the dash, the other on the seat beside him and he glanced out the windshield and side window before once again looking over at her.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothin,’” she grinned.  
  
He squinted suspiciously.  
  
“Christo.”  
  
She busted out laughing.  
  
“I’m not possessed Dean,” she grinned, sliding open the rear window before shimmying her way through to the bed of the truck.  
  
Dean in no way, shape or form was staring at her ass as she did. Nope, not him.  
  
Eying the window for a moment and quickly coming to the conclusion that there way no way in hell his shoulders, let alone the rest of him, was fitting through that hole he got out and walked around the side of the truck, crossing his arms across the side of the bed.  
  
“You gonna clue me in yet?” he asked, Monte propped up against the opposite wheel well, toeing off her boots.  
  
“Why don’t you join me and I’ll decide.”  
  
He rolled his eyes, but still planted a boot on the tire and vaulted himself over the side, settling down across from her.  
  
“You’re a pain in the ass you know.”  
  
Monte smiled, “Yeah, but that’s why you love me.”  
  
Dean shook his head and smirked before finally chuckling.  
  
Monte rocked to her knees and crawled over to him, straddling his legs.  
  
His hands instinctively found their way to her waist and he growled low in his throat, deciding he was definitely liking the direction this was headed.  
  
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she whispered, pushing his leather jacket off his shoulders.  
  
Oh yeah, Dean was so on board with this plan.  
  
She kissed him slowly, nibbling on his bottom lip as she made quick work of the button down shirt he was wearing under his jacket.  
  
She groaned when she was only rewarded with a gray t-shirt.  
  
“We gotta teach you how to wear less layers.”  
  
He chuckled, running his fingers under the straps of the black tank top she was wearing, pushing them off her shoulders, before his hand splayed across her shoulder blades, bringing her towards his mouth.  
  
Her fingers buried themselves in his hair as he kissed and sucked on her shoulder, blood blossoming to the surface of her skin.  
  
“So, what? You stole a truck, drove us out to the middle of nowhere, just to get laid?” he murmured, trailing kisses up her neck before dragging her earlobe through his teeth.  
  
“Yep,” she smiled, pulling back, “Always wanted to do it in the bed of a truck,” she shrugged.  
  
He couldn’t help but grin, turning into a chuckle when she yanked on his belt, pulling his hips clear off the bed an inch or two.  
  
“Oh ho ho, feisty are we?”  
  
“Shut up and fuck me,” she whispered in his ear, nipping at his jaw line.  
  
“Don’t have to tell me twice.”  
  
She laughed as he picked her up easily, rearranging them to where she was laid out beneath him.  
  
“Oh my god Garth!” she all but squealed as the radio station switched over to the next song.  
  
She crab walked out from under him, forcing him to sit up.  
  
He was about to yank her back underneath him until her front half disappeared back inside the cab, leaving her rear half at perfect viewing level, which of course resulted in a lecherous grin.  
  
“Stop staring at my ass Winchester,” she laughed, turning up the volume before coming back out of the cab.  
  
“You done now?”  
  
“Yup, always loved Garth,” she grinned.  
  
He rolled his eyes, refusing to admit that the song playing fit the two of them a little too well.  
  
 _Cowboys and angels, leather and lace…_  
Salt of the Earth, meets heavenly grace…  
Cowboys and angels, tested and tried…  
It’s a long way to heaven…  
And one hell of a ride  
  
Before he could snap himself out of that train of though she yanked on his necklace, bringing his mouth crashing down upon hers.  
  
“Seriously Dean,” she hissed against his lips, “Fantasy of mine…so stop thinking and just act…cowboy.”  
  
He grinned again, pulling her shirt off before biting at her nipple through the fabric of her bra as he unclipped the closure in back.  
  
She pushed him back when the fabric fell away and laid out on her back, popping open the button of her jeans, grinning as he managed to catch the drift and made short work of his own pants.  
  
“I can’t believe,” he rumbled, kissing her roughly, “you stole some,” biting at her jaw, “random truck,” licking the hollow of her neck, “just to fulfill some kinky cowboy fantasy.”  
  
“Oh honey, I ain’t shown you kinky yet.”  
  
He had to arch his brow at that one.  
  
She just smiled, yanking him back down into a kiss, wrapping her legs around him, bringing his hard length against her.  
  
He groaned both from the friction and at the way she had just slammed him against her.  
  
“Damn babe, relax.”  
  
“Okay, seriously, either you need to shut the hell up and fuck me or we’re going to have some serious issues.”  
  
“Yes dear,” he grinned.  
  
Out of nowhere she slapped him.  
  
“Ow! What the hell was that for?!”  
  
“I said shut up!”  
  
“Fine!”  
  
She arched her brow, although she was grinning before he smashed his lips against hers, kissing her with all teeth and tongue and no reservations at all.  
  
Her back arched like a bow against his hard muscle when he slammed into her with no preamble whatsoever.  
  
“Oh god…”  
  
“This what you want?” he groaned, ramming into her, “Hard and rough?”  
  
Her heels dug into his back harshly as she rolled her own hips viciously, slamming back against him, causing a hitch in his breathing.  
  
“What the hell did I say about talking?”  
  
He yanked her arms above her head, pinning her wrists with one hand as he braced himself with the other, continuing the nonstop roll of his hips, watching himself slip in and out of her wetness, flesh slapping roughly against each other.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” she hissed, arching against him again, feet slamming into the metal floor, bringing her hips at a frighteningly more pleasurable angle.  
  
“Damn…Monte…” he gasped, letting go of her wrists, barely registering her whimper of disappointment at the loss as he continued his movements.  
  
“Dean…”  
  
“Right there with ya baby.”  
  
She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to her, kissing him as her body shook with her release.  
  
Dean made some sort or groaning scream that he would most certainly deny later as he felt her body quiver before clenching around him.  
  
He continued to pound into her, using just a bit more force now that her body was so tight before letting himself go and shuddering through his own high.  
  
He damn near collapsed on top of her, catching himself last minute, his elbows and forearms crashing against the hard metal of the truck.  
  
“Damn baby…”  
  
She chuckled softly under him, his necklace dangling down and resting between her heaving breasts.  
  
“You gonna question me next time?”  
  
“Hell no,” he smiled, finally slipping free, and sitting up, still gasping for breath.  
  
He had to smile as she laid spread out against the cool metal of the truck bed, slowly bringing her breathing back to normal.  
  
“You got any more fantasies I should know about?”  
  
She grinned.


	5. Backseat Love

Bobby’s place was like a half dozen states all rolled into one gritty rusty package.  
  
The house was straight out of the Midwest, faded by the sun, paint cracking and peeling. In its better days it would have been the sweet little two story you see in the middle of every corn field.  
  
Behind it was the garage, a couple sheds and random equipment. Dry and rusty, paint peeling just like the house. The couple acres that spread out to the side looked like an abandoned ghost town out west.  
  
Sea of cars, broken and bleeding. Oil and evaporating gas killing the little wisps of grass before they could even start to grow between the gravel and dusty sand.  
  
But further out, towards the edges of his property sat the cars that no one really bothered with. The ones that didn’t come in on a wrecker and leave a couple weeks later smashed flat on a semi bed. These were the ones that came here to die. Came to sit and rust away in a miserable silence. The ones that weren’t worth it to sell, the ones that were so old no one even bothered to look for parts off of them anymore.  
  
The ones, quite literally put out to pasture. Back here was another handful of acres, the grease and fluids long since gone from pumping though the veins of the relics and letting the green actually take hold. Grass grown up high over the tires in some places, flat and soft in others. There was a Camaro over in the corner, tree grown up through the empty engine bay, unofficial guard and marker for the edge of Bobby’s land. Vines grew over and through some trucks way off on the side, American jungle that made you feel like you were down south.

Monte slipped her way in between the iron and steel corpses. Dragging her finger across rust bruised metal and paint. Tires dry rotted and falling apart, leaving the rims to cut into the dark dirt underneath.  
  
Engines sat grease black and iron red in truck beds that they didn’t even belong to. Hubcaps dented and left alone across the ground.  
  
She kicked a rusted brake rotor, the earth already rising up to swallow it halfway. There was a ’55 Chevy off to the right, one of the straight axle hot rod wanna bes, one tire through the windshield cradled in the rusted wires and molding foam of the bench seat, the axle straight out over the hood where a bare rim rested against the iron grey hood.  
  
There was a pile of driveshafts sitting next to it, even a couple of two-piecers.  
  
There were two or three old Ford pickups, huddled together, one even had an old Beetle torn apart in pieces in its bed. Next to them sat an Avanti, crushed under the weight of an El Camino.  
  
She smirked, threading her way deeper into the graveyard, passing a Charger, rough 01 spray painted on the side. There was a first generation Merc Cougar, vinyl roof torn to shreds, purple goat parked next to it, its paint faded to grey, hood sunburned dull and sandpaper rough under the South Dakota sun.  
  
She spotted an old Buick GS convertible, the lines catching her eye despite the pummeled front fender and missing bumper. She climbed over the trunk of a battered Javelin to get to it.  
  
The convertible top was stuck, rubber seals long turned to glue from age and the door hung at an old angle when she opened it.  
  
She rammed up with her shoulder, hearing the seal crack loose and with a little elbow grease got the old top to fold down about ninety percent of the way.  
  
The sealed top had managed to keep the interior in decent condition, considering it had been outside in the elements for the past couple decades.  
  
She shut the door with a metallic slam, leaning over to the driver side first and then back to the passenger, muscling the window cranks and lowering the murky dust covered glass.  
  
She climbed into the back seat, vinyl old and cracked and stretched out, back propped against the side panel and closed her eyes.  
  
The sun was starting to go down and crisp cool air creeped across the car, carrying on it the scent of grease and iron, burned oil and just the barest hint of confederate jasmine from where it grew wild on the fence line.  
  
She felt like she was back home. Metal and sweet thick air. One by one her muscles relaxed, slow uncoiling that had her melting into the heat of the seat.  
  
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there before she heard the crunch of gravel in the distance, back where the grass didn’t grow, before she could hear the boot steps soften, hitting the green carpet, occasional metal groan as someone moved between the corpses.  
  
She didn’t bother to reach for her gun, always tucked in her waistband. Bobby’s place was like Fort Knox, protected from just about everything, human and non-human alike.  
  
“What are you doing out here?” Dean rumbled, crawling his way over the same Javelin she had earlier.  
  
She didn’t bother with an answer, just cracked her eyes open and smiled at him as he stepped from the AMC’s trunk, planting his boot on the edge of the Buick’s door and finally down into the car, dropping himself into the seat beside her when she lifted her legs and made room for him.  
  
He crammed himself in the corner opposite her, nudging her boot with his own.  
  
She just smiled, toeing off her shoes before crawling over into his lap, knees sinking down into the worn out seat on either side of his hips.  
  
“Hey you.”  
  
“Hey back,” she grinned, leaning in and kissing him, settling down in his lap until her hips were pushed flush against his, she could already feel the heat rising off him.  
  
She ran her hands down his arms, grateful for the heat wave they had had this week because for once in his life he was in nothing but a grey t-shirt and jeans.  
  
He groaned into her mouth, fingers slipping under her cotton tank top and sinking into her sides, pulling her tighter against him.  
  
She moaned back, rolling her hips into him, feeling him swell beneath her and grinning against his lips when he slid his hands under the back of her jeans, palms sweaty and hot against her bare skin.  
  
“Commando?” he grinned, smirking mischievously at her.  
  
She just grinned back, nipping at his bottom lip before licking a trail of wet kisses over his stubble covered cheek and down his neck. Wandering hands finding the tattered hem of his shirt and breaking away from skin long enough to yank it over his head.  
  
Dean’s hands were instantly back on her, skin sticky with sweat.  
  
“What’s gotten into you?” he growled, eyes sparked and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.  
  
She just grinned, shrugging her shoulder and shot him a look that had him swallowing with a tinge of fear at the same time that his blood rushed southward.  
  
One by one she popped the buttons free on his pants, biting a kiss across his chest with each step further to opening the denim flaps.  
  
When she reached the last in line she bit down hard on his nipple. He gasped, back arching against her and before he had come back down her fingers had snagged his belt loops and in one strong jerk yanked the jeans down over his ass.  
  
“Damn girl,” he chuckled, low honey sweet rumble through his chest.  
  
“You know,” she whispered, licking the salty twang of sweat from his chest, easing her way back to his mouth. “How sometimes you go down on me just ‘cause you want to…won’t even let me touch you,” she sighed, eyes dragging over his face to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.  
  
“Yeah,” he ground out, voice drug raw over gravel.  
  
“Well…it goes both ways,” she murmured in his ear, dragging the cartilage through her teeth.  
  
“Fuck,” he hissed, hips pushing against her in an unconscious move to gain more friction, head falling back.  
  
“Not tonight baby,” she whispered, crawling backwards on her knees, folding herself into the floorboard, manhandling him until she was kneeling between his legs and finished pulling off his jeans, tossing them over the front seat.  
  
“Sonofabitch,” he sighed, lifting his head long enough to see her pull her tank top off, hot press of skin against his leg before letting it fall back with a dull thump, muscles going lax and weak like he was drunk.  
  
Her palms slid up his thighs, sticky skin tugging against the grain of his hair as she nudged his knees wider apart.  
  
She grinned, looking up to see him with his eyes clenched shut, brass amulet rocking against his chest as he heaved in broken gulps of air.  
  
She blew a hot gust of air over his cock, chuckling at him when it twitched and he groaned, hips stuttering against the phantom touch.  
  
“Cocktease,” he hissed, shifting down further into the seat.  
  
“You like it,” she smiled, biting at the jut of bone at his hip as she wrapped a sweat slick palm around his shaft.  
  
He groaned again, jaw snapping shut with a click of teeth as his abs tightened, hips pushing up into the tight circle of her fist.  
  
It was dry, not nearly enough sweat and pre-come to slick the way but the harsh drag of skin on skin only made it better and his neck corded, hips working between her hand and the seat, a whine slithering through his throat that he would never admit to.  
  
“Sshh,” she hissed, vibration of air and lips against the head of his cock. Tongue snaking out to lick against the slit and his back arched, sweaty skin pulling off the dusty vinyl seat with an audible tear.  
  
“Goddamnit Monte,” he growled, voice thick with need and low like thunder.  
  
“Just shut up,” she hissed, swirling her tongue around the head, moaning as the salty taste that washed across her tongue, one hand still slowly stroking up and down, slight twist towards the top, while the other squeezed his balls.  
  
He let his head fall back again, fingers digging into a tear in the seat and sinking into the foam below and bit his tongue, letting her drag this out.  
  
Finally she licked her lips, glossy with spit and sank down on him, one long drag that had him nudging against the back of her throat.  
  
“Shit…” he hissed, struggling against the need to thrust into the wet burn. She moaned, vibration shuddering through his bones and pressed her palm flat against his hip, holding him down against the seat before dragging her lips back up, tongue swirling around the head, tip pushing against where it came together underneath before sliding back down.  
  
He was panting hard through his nose but lifted his head enough to watch her.  
  
She could feel his gaze burning on her and lifted her eyes to meet his as she wrapped her hand around the base of him and squeezed, tongue wiggling back and forth across the vein on the underside as she slid back to the top, sucking on the head like a piece of candy.  
  
He groaned, the heat in her eyes lighting his body up like a match, burning from the inside out and he’d bet money on her being able to see his skin flush.  
  
She slid down slow, letting spit slip from between her lips, slick and smooth, easing the harsh drag, sucking light and constant on the way back up. Stopping to kiss and run her tongue over the sensitive head again, easy twist up slide down of her fist.  
  
She eased the grip of her hand, continuing with slow even strokes, ducking her head to lick his balls. Sucking one into her mouth at a time, working them with her tongue.  
  
She went back up, still holding his eyes and sucked on the head again, spit slick, tightening her fist and speeding up her strokes, moaning when his hips jerked instinctively.  
  
She closed her eyes, hand sliding down before she went down hard, swallowing against her gag reflex and coming back up quick to suck at the tip again.  
  
“Holy shit,” he groaned, fingers digging deeper into the seat.  
  
She grinned, repeating the process a couple more times, hard thrust down, slow sweet drag up with a soft sucking kiss before pulling back, swallowing against the burn in her throat, hand taking over where her mouth left off.  
  
She worked her jaw a couple times, dull ache in the hinge. Dean was still panting hard, hips rolling in time with her hand, watching her every move.  
  
She swirled her tongue around the tip again, free hand coming up to press against his balls, cupping them against his body, tongue hot velvet on the underside of his shaft as she went back down. He hissed as she came back up, letting her teeth drag softly over the silk incased steel and he groaned low in his throat, finally allowing himself to reach out and thread his fingers through her hair, growl rumbling through his chest when she slipped her eyes closed at the touch.  
  
She could tell by the tremble under his skin, the sheen of sweat that was highlighted in the moon that he wasn’t that far away.  
  
She took one more long drag before sucking hard, tongue pushing against the bottom of his head and moaned when she felt him groan and stiffen, back bowing against the seat back.  
  
Her hand bounced between her mouth and his body, sticky with spit and sweat and she groaned when he fisted his other hand in her hair, loosening her jaw, but keeping up the suction and let him take the reins, soft thrust in and out of her mouth.  
  
She opened her eyes, pinning him to the seat and told him wordlessly to just let go.  
  
He growled, thrusting deeper, groan ripping from his chest as he threw his head back, back arched against the sticky vinyl, sharp piston of his hips into her mouth, vision murky and unfocused as his muscles clenched and he let the hot rush wash over him.  
  
She could feel him swell and harden, letting her body loosen to follow his erratic movements as he thrust into her mouth, feeling the thick warm liquid pulse across her tongue.  
  
When his fist unclenched, hand trailing down her face she sucked slowly, drawing her mouth off of his spent cock and ran her hands soothingly over his thighs, easing herself back onto the seat, making sure not to brush against his sensitive shaft.  
  
His hands came up to cradle her ribs, feeling her crawl over him and he cracked his eyes open when her shadow fell over his eyes.  
  
Her eyes bounced back and forth between his, his focus going in and out and he tried to calm his breathing before falling to her lips, still spit slick and swollen.  
  
It wasn’t until then that he realized she hadn’t swallowed and his eyes shot back to hers, trying to figure out what was sparking in the blue grey.  
  
His chest tightened when her eyes fell to his lips, slightly parted and he realized what she wanted.  
  
When she looked back up at him he held her eyes and leaned in slowly, grazing his lips across hers, fingers digging into her sides when her breath hitched.  
  
His gaze dropped back to her lips for a split second before his hand came up to cradle the back of her head and brought her mouth crashing down on his, her lips parting in a shocked gasp, slick slide of cum snaking between them and over his tongue.  
  
He groaned, fingers tightening in her hair and chased the taste in her mouth, wrapping his tongue around hers, free hand running down the knobs of her spine as she melted against him.   
  
She blinked in a daze when he pulled back, sticky string of saliva and cum stretched between their mouths before it snapped.  
  
He grinned at her expression, kissing her softly again before letting her settle against his chest.  
  
She curled up against him, back pressed against the seat, ear resting over his heart and let her hand follow the rise and fall of his chest as he brought his breathing back down.  
  
“You never answered my question,” he said quietly after a moment of silence, the vibration of his voice rumbling straight through his chest and into her.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“What are you doing out here?”  
  
He felt her shrug her shoulder against him.   
  
“It feels like home,” she said quietly, causing him to crane his neck to look at her.  
  
“Just the cars…the metal and grease and oil.”  
  
“This place is nothing but a graveyard,” he said, slight lilt of confusion to his voice.  
  
“To you, to me it’s more like an orphanage…strays just waiting for someone to actually pay attention to them.”  
  
There was a slight rumble of laughter though his chest.  
  
“I remember the first time my Dad took me with him,” she said quietly, “We walked through that junkyard for an hour before we found an old beat up 442, yellow paint faded almost white, black bumble bee stripes. Anybody else would have passed it over, left it to rust and die but Dad saw it, could see what it could be…that was the first car I helped him rebuild,” she said quietly.  
  
Dean swallowed hard, tightening his arm around her.  
  
“Junkyards were like Christmas morning, you just walked around and took your pick of the litter.”  
  
Dean huffed a laugh, feeling a little better when he felt her smile against him.  
  
“We found this old Volkswagen one time,” she grinned. “Daddy dropped a friggin’ Porsche motor in the thing, he could stand it up on its hind end.”  
  
Dean chuckled again, hand tracing patterns over her arm.  
  
“Him and…” she cut herself off and he felt her stiffen, eyes glancing down at her in concern.  
  
“Him and Kevin painted it lime green,” she finally said quietly.  
  
She stayed silent after that, curling into his chest when he pulled her tighter against him, hand running down her back.  
  
“Guess you do have a way with seeing under the rust and mud huh? Polishing up a lost cause, turning it into a show stopper?”  
  
She looked up at him, grin tugging at the corner of her mouth at the smile in his eyes.  
  
“Yeah, I guess I do,” she grinned, leaning up to kiss him softly, nuzzling under his chin and draping herself over him.  
  
“Hey baby…”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“You know…how you like it when I lay on top of you…” he asked quietly, knowing she loved it when she was under his body weight.  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“Well it goes both ways,” he grinned, pulling her tighter to his chest and grinning when she chuckled against him.


	6. Old Yeller

Dean at least had enough decency to turn down the volume on the television when Monte’s phone went off.  
  
She grumbled some curses; carefully putting down the small plastic engine she had been gluing together for a model and snatched up her phone, sparing a glance at the caller I.D. before opening it.  
  
“Hey Travis, what’s up?”  
  
“Not much, same old shit, how you doin’ hun?”  
  
“Not bad, considering.”  
  
“Listen…I’ve got a uh, a car build, I kinda want you to see…any chance you can come by?”  
  
“Oh geez Travis I dunno, that’s only like a thousand miles away.”  
  
“I know, I know, but you know damn well I wouldn’t call unless it was important. I can run this shop fine without you, you know.”

“And what exactly is  _that_  supposed to mean?”  
  
Travis laughed over the line, “You know I’m kidding Monte, you know I got your back when it comes to this shop.”  
  
“Yeah, I know…so it’s that important huh?”  
  
“I’d really like it if you could come by.”  
  
Monte sighed, looking over at Dean, who was listening attentively trying to figure out the conversation.  
  
“Alright, sure, give us a couple days.”  
  
“Awesome…see you soon.”  
  
“Alright, bye babe.”  
  
She clicked the phone shut, tossing it on the coffee table and sighed.  
  
“And that was?”  
  
“Travis.”  
  
“Travis…”  
  
“My best guy buddy from high school. Co-owner of my shop and the guy that has been keeping it running since I ditched Georgia.”  
  
“Everything alright?”  
  
“Yeah, he’s just got a car he wants me to come see. Must be something, he knows how damn far away I am,” she said getting up and walking to their bedroom, Dean following.  
  
“So we’re going back to Georgia?” he asked carefully, leaning against the doorjamb. They hadn’t been back since the fight with her brother had gone down.  
  
“Yeah, looks like we are.”  
  
Dean nodded, walking over to the closet to grab his duffle, letting his hand skim across her back in a silent comforting gesture as he passed.

* * *

 

Travis walked out, wiping greasy hands on an equally as greasy red shop rag when the Monte Carlo came rumbling straight through the shop’s open garage door.  
  
“Whooee, if it ain’t Rina.”  
  
Dean grinned both from the thick drawl and from the death glare that Monte was now shooting in Travis’ direction.  
  
“You better watch it before you end up a couple ball bearings short of a smooth ride.”  
  
Travis just shook his head with a smile before pulling her into a hug.  
  
“Missed you hun.”  
  
“Missed you too,” she said softly, pulling back to motion towards Dean.  
  
“Dean, Travis…Travis, Dean.”  
  
They shook hands and said their hellos before Monte went walking through the shop, eyeing the customs they had lined up that they were working on.  
  
She saw a 442, a matching duo of Chevelles, a custom pickup in the back corner and the tail end of what looked to be a Barracuda out the back door.  
  
“What’s under the tarp?” she asked, pointing over to the one car covered in the corner. “That what you drug my ass all the way back to Georgia for?”  
  
Travis chuckled, walking over to the covered vehicle.  
  
“Actually, no, but since you’re here I’ll show it to you, was going to e-mail you some pictures of it once we got it back from the paint booth anyways,” he said, peeling back the car cover and revealing the black Australian Ford underneath.  
  
“Well if you had to bring a Ford into my shop, at least it’s one that’s worthy,” she smiled, taking a peek through the window.  
  
“That’s not…” Dean trailed off, confusion on his face.  
  
“Mad Max’s V8 Interceptor?” Travis said with a smile.  
  
“No it’s not Dean,” Monte smiled, “It’s just a damn good clone.”  
  
He smirked.  
  
“So what exactly did you drag my ass down here for?”  
  
Travis grinned.  
  
“Come on, it’s in the garage out back,” he said, walking out the back door.  
  
He yanked up on the steel roll-away door and smiled when he heard Monte gasp behind his shoulder.  
  
“Travis…”  
  
“Thought you oughta see it in person,” he grinned.  
  
Dean looked at the yellow and white monstrosity sitting all alone in the dead center of the garage before looking at Monte, who was damn near close to tears.  
  
She walked over to the old Chevy Van, running her hand over the short hood and up the oversized CB Radio antenna. She stared down the side before walking all the way around it and stopping again at next to Travis.  
  
“You guys have been busy as hell,” she whispered, Dean distinctly hearing the waver in her voice. “How the hell did you finish it?”  
  
“Wasn’t that hard,” he winked.  
  
Monte pulled him into a hug before his phone went off in his pocket.  
  
She waved him off as he answered and retreated back to the main shop building.  
  
“Babe?”  
  
Monte smiled at Dean.  
  
“I’m alright.”  
  
“’Kay,” he said slowly, “Mind telling me why a shaggin’ wagon brought you to tears?”  
  
She laughed, “That ‘shaggin’ wagon’” she said, gesturing to the big van, “is Old Yeller…I grew up in the back of that van. It had started getting beat up and just plain tired when everything went to hell. I had had full intentions to restore it, so I brought it in when I sold the house and told Travis to have the guys work on it whenever they could. I didn’t think they’d finish it this fast though,” she added quietly.  
  
Dean just stood quietly beside her until she walked around to the back and opened the double doors wide, smiling from ear to ear.  
  
He had to admit, it was pretty sweet.  
  
Speakers swept up from the floor to the ceiling on the small portions of wall that framed the back doors, the largest at top and bottom, reducing in size to the smallest right in the middle.  
  
The seats were wrapped in black denim and tan suede, two settled towards the front of the rear portion of the van.  
  
Soft lush carpet flowed across the floor only to be mirrored by two strips that ran the length of the ceiling on either side. The walls and roof were all paneled in, surprisingly, real wood. The sweet heady smell, mixed with a little metal and oil lightly scenting the interior.  
  
Monte crawled across the floor, sitting by one of the twin benches that had been built around the wheel wells, concealing them.  
  
She lifted up the top and laughed. Two of the fluffiest pillows on earth and a big ass blanket were tucked inside.  
  
Dean couldn’t help his curiosity and checked out the other side, a small entertainment system that no doubt connected to the small drop down screen mounted on the ceiling and much to his amazement, a built in cooler, wrapped around the opposite well.  
  
“He’s got good taste,” Dean smiled, walking hunched over towards the front, taking in the custom dash and stereo before settling into one of the rear seats to watch Monte.  
  
“Travis had nothing to do with this. I had this all planned out from the get-go. He just followed my designs.”  
  
Dean grinned.  
  
“I’ve had this baby built in my head since I was sixteen.”  
  
Dean smiled when Monte looked over at him, her happiness shining in her eyes. He had a feeling they were going to be driving two vehicles on the trip home.  
  
She smiled, before getting out and walking over to the door of the garage, pulling it closed. Dean stood with a suspicious arch of his brow by the back doors of the van.  
  
She passed him with a smirk before crawling back inside the van and pulling out the two pillows from their hiding spot.  
  
“You gonna get in or not?” she grinned.  
  
Dean wasn’t about to say no.  
  
He climbed in, slamming the door shut behind him as she laid back on the pillows, allowing him to crawl over her.  
  
He dipped down, kissing her slow and soft, her fingers buried in his hair, cradled between her knees.  
  
He felt more than heard her hitch of breathing and sigh as he trailed light kisses down her neck. She had been a bundle of nerves and emotions since they had hit the Georgia border and he reveled in the chance to take that all away, erase the pain from her eyes, the tremble from her voice, even if just for a moment.  
  
His finger slipped in the fold of her shirt, popping buttons loose as he slid down, pushing it off her shoulders when it was free.  
  
“Dean…”  
  
“Sshh baby, I’ve got you.”  
  
She whimpered as he kissed her soft again, his hand cradling the swell of her breast in his palm.  
  
She closed her eyes with a moan and tilted her head back as he sat up on his knees, releasing the buckle of her belt and easing open the button and zipper of her jeans, kissing her hip softly as he eased the material off her.  
  
She inhaled sharp when he mouth suddenly returned to hers, his tongue begging for access and taking control but still somehow managing to be tender at the same time.  
  
She had lost herself in the feel of his mouth on hers, heat of him above her radiating into her when he gently slipped his finger between her legs.  
  
She broke from his kiss, hips stuttering against the slow slide of his fingers.  
  
He bent down, kissing between her breasts, sucking a perfect red spot that would last for days while he finally entered her body.  
  
She arched against him, forcing her chest against his face and frantically grabbed at his clothes.  
  
He watched the flush spread across her neck and cheeks as he stroked softly, circling with his thumb in slow measured movements.  
  
“Oh god, Dean…”  
  
He sped up his movements, concentrating on the erratic roll of her hips, the way her skin and muscles fluttered under his touch until he just knew she was teetering on the edge before removing his hands all together.  
  
“Dean,” she groaned, the sound less menacing than she would have liked, but the anger leaving either way when she saw him discard his own jeans, growling when the pressure was finally eased.  
  
Her hands slid over the smooth expanse of his chest as he leaned back over her, one hand bracing himself as the other cupped her flushed cheek, bringing her mouth to his, stealing her breath once again.  
  
He buried his nose in the crook of her neck when she threw her head back at his slow entrance into her.  
  
She had been so close to begin with that feeling his hard length slide into her, feeling the way he trembled under her hands, restraining his need, the way he was being so goddamned gentle with her sent her crashing over the edge and she arched against him, legs tightening around his waist as her world whited-out around her.  
  
The next thing she was able to comprehend was Dean whispering something into the soft skin of her neck, his words lost in the rumble of his voice as he eased out of her only to rock back into her.  
  
Her hands shook as she turned his face back to hers, blue eyes locking with jade, and despite all the emotion and love and tenderness that was literally swirling in the air she somehow managed the thought of this being the first time she was actually ‘shagged’ in her ‘wagon,’ and she chuckled, making Dean’s brow furrow in confusion, his steady rhythm slowing.  
  
“Babe…”  
  
“I’m okay,” she smiled, kissing him, her hand sliding down to cup the swell of his ass.  
  
He moaned into her kiss and sped up his movements, his own control starting to slip through his fingers like water through a net, despite how hard he tried to grasp at it.  
  
“I love you,” she whispered against his spit-slicked lips and he blinked, frozen for a split second before rumbling it back only to lose his last shred of restraint and spilled himself deep inside her.  
  
When his own white-out receded from the edges of his vision she was curled up next to him, the blanket from the cubby-hole spread across them as their nerves singing beneath their skin started to calm and the heat of the moment started to cool.  
  
“You know…this is actually the first time I’ve done it in a van,” Dean said, a smile evident in his tone.  
  
Monte grinned against his chest, her previous thoughts coming back to her.  
  
“Me too,” she grinned, meeting his eyes and smile before coming together in a slow kiss. 


	7. Red Line

“Got the oil changed in the Impala,” Dean called, drying his hands off from the sink in the kitchen. “Monte?”  
  
He made his way up the stairs, headed for a cool shower and a clean change of clothes.  
  
His plans changed as soon as he opened the bedroom door.  
  
Monte was spread out, sheets fisted in her hand, one knee bent up, head thrown back, hand between her legs.  
  
She paused for a split second, caught off guard at his entrance. But when she met his eyes she moaned, throwing her head back again.  
  
Dean swallowed, hearing the hum of the toy she was using. He pulled his smudged shirt over his head and toed off his boots, dragging the bottom of his jeans across the floor, walking over to the bed and lifting his knee to climb onto it.

His hand, still tinged with the shadow of grease and oil slid up her leg, pushing at her knee until she spread herself open so he could see.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispered, running his hands up her legs until his hands framed where she was still sliding the vibrator in and out of her body, the rumble pulsing through his palms.  
  
 _“Fuck.”_  
  
She grinned, biting her lip and stared at him, hand still working between his. She draped her leg over his hip, smooth thigh scraping across rough denim and he could feel her heel in the small of his back, driving him forward.  
  
He let one had fall beside her side, necklace dangling between them as he loomed over her, knees digging into the bed.  
  
The fingers on his other hand skimmed across the lines between her fingers where they were wrapped around the hard rubber, her whole hand slick with wetness he knew didn’t come from a bottle.  
  
He pushed, threading his fingers in between hers until he could wrap them around the base of the vibrator, bright red rubber disappearing inside her body.  
  
She let go of the control, let him take the wheel. One hand on his thigh, fingers digging into the muscle, while the other reached between them, popping the buttons of his fly open one by one.  
  
Dean slipped the toy out slowly, smooth surface shiny wet before he pushed it back in, hard and quick. He made a couple experimental thrusts before he worked up a rhythm, stroking in time with the roll of her hips, her back arching, stomach clenching in time, making her rock back and forth against the push of his hand.  
  
She wrapped both legs around him, using him as an anchor, literally pulling herself onto the toy, bottoming out against his hand until his fingers were slick with her wetness.  
  
He reached up, hand engulfing her breast, black under his fingernails and ghost of grease grey across his knuckles stark against the pale skin, fingers sinking into the softness.  
  
She groaned, tipping her head back and pushed down on his hand when he stroked his first two fingers against where he was still slipping the red plastic in and out of her body, blood roaring in her ears.  
  
His hand clamped down hard on her breast when she shoved her hand down his pants and grabbed his already rock hard cock.  
  
“Dean,” she whispered, trying to stroke in time with his movements, hips still rocking back and forth on the artificial shaft.  
  
He growled, eyes still glued to where he was working it into her, sharp twist of his wrist and pulled it out slowly, fingers sliding down the slick fluid that coated it.  
  
He turned the knob, killing the vibrations and went to put it on the end table when she grabbed his wrist.  
  
“No,” she whispered, staring at him, eyes half closed when he gaze snapped to her, frozen in place.  
  
“Both,” she said quietly.  
  
Dean closed his eyes and inhaled shakily, shiver spiking down his spine and sparking a full body shudder, heart thudding into overdrive against his ribcage.  
  
“Fuck baby,” he growled, fist clenched around the plastic, sinking into the bed as he leaned forward and kissed her, tongue snaking between her lips, teeth crashing together.  
  
She was already breathing hard, skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat and she moaned at the loss of contact when he stood up to step out of his jeans. Hands coming up to wrap around his arms when he crawled back over her.  
  
He stared at her, his own breathing ragged and broken, eyes falling to her kiss swollen parted lips.  
  
He drug his finger over her bottom lip, groaning when she took a swipe at it with the tip of her tongue.  
  
He drove his first two fingers into her mouth, breath hitching when her lips closed around them, sucking on them, her tongue slick and hot against his skin.  
  
She sighed, eyes falling closed, sharp taste of herself on his hand, the metallic hint of grease and sweat still underneath. Salty scent of him undercut with grease and oil and metal engulfing her senses.  
  
She felt him shift, picking up the vibrator with his other hand and twisting the base until it was just barely pulsing, rubbing the tip between her legs and over her clit.  
  
Her knees fell open, hips rocking up into the touch and his eyes fell away from his fingers still in her mouth to watch the slick plastic stroking across her.  
  
They had both taken a few laps around the block. Neither one of them new when it came to this sort of race. Dean had tried just about everything at one time or another. Those small-town waitresses were hardly as innocent as they’d like you to believe.   
  
And he knew Monte had her fair share of one night stands. Hell, he had even pleased her like this before, watching himself use a rubber stand in, but both at the same time they had never tried before and he could feel his skin tighten, chest flushing with heat at just the thought of it.  
  
He slipped it back into her body, letting her natural wetness get it good and slick again before looking back up at her, holding her eyes as the rubber tip slipped down, just barely grazing against her ass.  
  
Her eyes held his, mouth parting when he let his fingers drag down over her chin, leaving a wet trail of spit behind as he eased the vibe into her. Short in and out strokes until her body relaxed against the intrusion, muscles opening against the backwards motion and he slid it into her until his knuckles rested against the tight circle of skin.  
  
He stroked the hot skin softly, eyes locked onto her face, her neck corded, head thrown back, eyes closed as her body adjusted. She rocked her hips once, pushing against his hand and he eased it out, pushing back in, once, twice, until her body went lax and allowed the back and forth movement freely.  
  
He groaned, placing his free hand on the bed next to her chest, and pulled himself over, cradled between her thighs.  
  
She was unbelievably tight. She was tight naturally, but add in the fact that her muscles were clenched against the over stimulation and the fact that she already had something inside her and he had to push a little harder to slip into her, heat closing around him.  
  
“Oh god,” she hissed, head falling back as he slipped into her, body burning, muscles clenched against the tight, unbelievably full feeling.  
  
“Shit,” he whispered, dropping his head onto her shoulder for a moment, sweat beaded across his brow as he struggled to control himself. The soft idle of the vibrator going through the thin skin between him and it and sending shots of pleasure through his shaft.  
  
He felt her sigh against him, harsh intake of air, rise and fall of her chest, stomach still clenched and she rocked her hips against him, knowing that while both of them were struggling to catch up to the situation that it all smoothed out once they started moving.  
  
He had one hand awkwardly between them, holding the vibe inside her, stroking off beat whenever he could shift his brain in gear long enough to move his hand. The other was still sunk in the bed beside her, muscles tensed as he held himself over her.  
  
He slipped out slowly, his dick already coated with her wetness, sliding back in, feeling the hard press of rubber, smooth and quivering underneath him, nothing but a thin barrier of flesh between them.  
  
He shuddered, closing his eyes as he kissed her, snapping his hips forward and growling low in his throat when she pushed back.  
  
They didn’t last long. Frantic piston of his hips as he drove into the tight wet heat between her legs. Pulsing vibration shaking through her body and straight into him.  
  
“Shit Dean,” she whispered, nails biting into this bicep, head falling back as she pushed back against him, teeth clenched.  
  
He thrust harder, harsh slap of skin on skin, broken rhythm between the steady snap of his hips and the awkward fumbling as he tried to keep his hand moving between them, red plastic slipping in and out underneath his own hardness.  
  
“Baby…”  
  
“Right there,” she hissed, chest heaving, heels digging into his back almost painfully.  
  
Her back bowed, hands tearing into the sheets as she crashed, nerve endings firing and burning the blood in her veins like it was gasoline. Her body clenched, locking both Dean and the vibrator inside her, muscles quivering and jumping around him and he groaned, hard push of his hips as he let himself go inside her, hand fumbling to turn off the vibe when his body burned with over stimulation.  
  
He moaned when he slipped it out of her body, feeling the smooth rubber through her as he slid it out, tossing it onto the floor with a dull thunk. Raising himself onto his hands and knees so he could ease himself out of her.  
  
“Sonofabitch,” he hissed, chest heaving in gulps of oxygen.  
  
She huffed out a laugh, struggling to bring her own breathing back down to normal and slid her hand down his thigh when he collapsed onto his side beside her.  
  
He laid his hand on her stomach, sticky with sweat and both their releases and let it slide down into the small of her back when she rolled into him, lips finding his. Kisses broken by shaky breaths, sharing air as they closed their eyes and let the burn in their muscles cool.


	8. Wrapped Up in You

Dean hears the rattle of metal before he opens the door.  
  
He’s already thinking about what the noise could be from, where Monte might be, hethought she was in the bedroom and wondering how fast he can get to the gun hidden in the closet.  
  
He sees the long line of Monte’s arm when he just barely cracks the door open and he kicks it in a sudden rush of anger and fear that something has happened.  
  
He’s one step inside the threshold when his brain finally catches up to what his eyes are seeing.  
  
Monte’s spread out alright, but not in any sinister way. Or, well…maybe.  
  
Her left hand is already handcuffed to one of the posts of the headboard and she’s just sort of grinning at him, waving her other hand, only free hand, at him, handcuff dangling off her wrist.  
  
“Dean!” she grins, half laughing as he finally snaps himself out of it.

“Wha…you…what are you…”  
  
She smirks, white teeth biting into her bottom lip and Dean swallows hard.  
  
“Come on, I can’t get the last one done with one hand.”  
  
He’s still rooted to the floor, just staring at her until he realizes what she said.   
  
Realizes what she means.  
  
His knees feel like the joints just got replaced with pudding but somehow he manages to walk, more like stumble, over to the other side of the bed.  
  
He reaches out, fingers dragging over the cold silver steel, mesmerized by the way it contrasts against her skin and finally mentally jerks, looking back up at her.  
  
She’s smiling softly, like she knows how this just tilted his whole world out of whack but tugs gently against the chain in his hand.  
  
“Come on,” she whispers.  
  
Dean’s never had such a hard time with handcuffs in his life. He can get out of ‘em in less than two minutes but getting that cuff around the bedpost?  
  
His Dad would be ashamed.  
  
‘Course, he wouldn’t ever tell his Dad about  _this_  anyways.  
  
He stands back up slowly, swallowing at the way she’s spread out over the sheets.  
  
When he looks back up at her she’s still smiling softly, pupils blown wide and he knows she’s waiting for him to say something.  
  
“Since when?” he croaks out.  
  
“Always,” she shoots back, letting him have this little question and answer session, knowing he needs it.  
  
“You never told me.”  
  
“Too busy running, trying to stay alive. Figured I’d bring it up after we had a decent breather.”  
  
He nods dumbly, becoming conscious of the fact that although his head is still swimming, eyes drinking in the sight, his dick is completely on board with this plan and his jeans are doing their damnedest to strangle the life out of it.  
  
“So uh…”  
  
“Shut up. And stop thinking,” she grins.  
  
“I just…” he sighs, somewhat surprised at himself when he sinks his knee into the mattress and climbs onto the bed until he’s straddling her waist.  
  
He finally huffs out a laugh, letting his hands spread out over her ribs.  
  
“So…you like being controlled huh?”  
  
“Is it that big a surprise?” she grins.  
  
“Yes,” he shoots out, thinking about how independent and strong willed she is.  
  
He turns around and mumbles ‘no’ a moment later, thinking about how she always lets him lead. How she likes him on top.  
  
Not that she doesn’t do her fair share of instigating and leading, but he’s noticed, oh has he noticed, how she almost always pulls him on top of her. Arches into his touch when he gets a little rough and grabs her hands or wrists.  
  
“Never really thought about it,” he mumbles, fingers slipping underneath the swell of her breasts, sweeping across the tender underside. “You’re just so…independent,” he settles on, eyes finally meeting hers again.  
  
She shrugs awkwardly, the metal of the cuffs rattling against the wooden bedposts with the movement.  
  
“I dunno,” she says, eyes falling away from his. “Something about…knowing you can,” she whispers, looking back up at him.  
  
His brow furrows, “Meaning?”  
  
“You know I’m hardly a pussy,” she grins, “I can handle my own, but knowing…that you could overpower me, if you really wanted to…I just…I dunno, there’s something about that,” she whispers.  
  
“I would never…”  
  
“I know…but that doesn’t change the fact that you could.”  
  
His mind is still wrestling with the whole situation. His conscience screaming at him that Monte is strung up, unable to defend herself but his libido telling him that in some sort of way he’s pretty damn okay with that.  
  
His hands are still sweeping across her stomach, watching the way the muscles clench and relax under his fingers and swallows hard when he thinks that, yeah, maybe he kinda likes the fact that he can control her.  
  
“It’s okay Dean,” she whispers, staring at him when his eyes snap back to hers. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”  
  
He nods, although he’s not quite convinced.  
  
“You’re not gonna hurt me, I know that. I’ve always known that. You’re not forcing me to do anything.  _That_  would be different.”  
  
He sighs, shirt pulling tight across his chest and he knows she’s right.  
  
“So uh,” he swallows again. “How do you…I mean…”  
  
“Up to you,” she smiles, soft upturning of the corner of her mouth.  
  
His eyes snap to hers, realizing that that’s why she planned this whole thing, strung herself up. So that he could just…have at it.   
  
She was offering herself to him.  
  
“God…Monte…”  
  
“Dean…just stop. Trust me, I’m getting plenty out of this. Just…do whatever you want,” she says softly.  
  
He lets himself lean forward and kisses her softly, hand cupping her jaw.  
  
“You know I want to please…”  
  
She bites his lip, quick sharp nip that has him pulling back in surprise.  
  
“You will.  _Trust me_. I want to do this for you…just, let this be for you,” she finishes softly.  
  
He’s tempted to keep arguing. Keep her talking while he struggles to reconcile everything in his head. But Monte’s always had a strange way of being able to control  _him_  and somehow it doesn’t surprise him she still is, even handcuffed to the bed.  
  
He pulls his t-shirt over his head, chest heaving with a shaky breath and feels her legs come up to wrap around his waist, smooth skin resting just above the waistband of his jeans.  
  
He slips his hands down her thighs, fingers pressing into the soft muscle and she closes her eyes and sighs, hitching herself up until she can wrap her fingers around the headboard.  
  
Dean swallows hard, letting his hands slide over her hips and across her stomach. He feels her muscles twitch under his fingers and continues until the weight of her breasts is in his hands.  
  
She opens her eyes with a sigh, legs tightening around him. He leans forward to kiss her but she turns her head away from him and his lips graze across her cheek.  
  
“Fine then,” he whispers, sudden shot of thrill running down his spine and his hands tighten around her breasts and he drags his lips down her neck, tongue flicking out to leave wet trails behind, stomach flipping as she arches into him.  
  
Her breath hitches against him and he hears the rattle of the metal cuffs against the bedposts and swallows the last lump of uncertainty in his throat.  
  
He pushes her legs away from him and shifts himself until he can suck her nipple, teasing the bud with her teeth, nipping at the sensitive flesh and groaning when she hisses but arches into the abuse.  
  
“Fucker,” she hisses, knowing damn well he knows she doesn’t like that but the spark in his eyes when he looks back up at her has her snapping her jaw shut.  
  
“You said whatever I want,” he growls, biting down again and groaning deep in his throat when she keeps her mouth shut and lets him do it.  
  
When her leg comes up to try to wrap around his hip he surprises himself and shoves it away, holding it out to the side as he makes his way down her stomach biting and sucking spots of red to the surface as he goes.  
  
She’s breathing hard, sharp expansion and collapse of her ribcage underneath his hands but she’s clenching her jaw and keeping quiet.  
  
Dean inhales his own deep breath, shaky and intoxicating and dips his tongue in between her legs.  
  
Her hips jerk into the heat and he growls, hand coming up to sink into her hip, fingers leaving white shadows as he pushes her back down and teases her. Quick flicks of his tongue, just a ghost of a touch before backing away.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” she hisses and he can hear the ragged edge of air as she pulls in another breath, muscles twitching under his fingers with the need to push into the promise of friction he’s torturing her with.  
  
“Sshh,” he hisses, grinning against her when the vibration causes a shudder to slither under her skin.  
  
He hears the rattle of the handcuffs again and looks up to see her with a white-knuckle grip around the spindles on the headboard.  
  
He finally gives in and drags his tongue over her, just enough to take the edge of need off, groaning at the taste, fingers sinking in when she sighs and jerks against him.  
  
He circles his thumb against the bundle of nerves and she wraps her leg around his shoulder, heel digging into his back and he can’t find it in himself to care.  
  
He takes his time sliding his finger through her wetness, hard enough to send spikes shooting up her spine but light enough to tease.  
  
She’s biting her bottom lip, sharp coppery taste of blood on her tongue as he swipes his stubble over the inside of her thigh, turning the skin red before kissing over the sting.  
  
She jerks, the short chains on the handcuffs snapping tight when he slips his finger inside her.  
  
“Damn baby, you’re soaking wet…getting off on this aren’t you?” he growls and she has to bite back a moan just from the sound of his voice.  
  
Her heel trails up his spine before she lifts her knees and bucks up into the slow slip-slide of his fingers and her eyes snap open as he plants his free hand in the mattress and levers himself onto his hands and knees.  
  
She tilts her head back, letting him bite and mark her neck, hips stuttering against the hard jab of his fingers, his whole hand slick with her wetness as he pushes in as far as he can over and over.  
  
“God…Dean…”  
  
He mumbles something against her throat and thrusts his hand harder, slipping in a third finger beside the first two.  
  
“Fuck…” she shudders, metal rattling around the bedposts and he groans and pulls himself away from her and slides off the edge of the bed.  
  
She’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat, chest heaving and he can see the wetness on the inside of her thighs.  
  
His pupils are blown wide and when he finally looks back up at her she’s staring at the prominent line of his cock still trapped in his jeans.  
  
She bites her lip, small bead of blood rushing to the surface before her tongue snakes out and swipes it away, leaving it spit slick.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispers, popping the buttons loose on his jeans, groaning when the pressure’s finally eased and lets them fall to the floor.  
  
He tugs on his cock a couple times, hard pulls as he steps out of the puddle of denim and closer to the bed.  
  
Her eyes are still locked on him, on the smooth pull-twist of his hand and when her eyes meet his again their just as wide and heated as his own.  
  
His knee sinks into the mattress and he throws his leg over her, straddling her chest, soft press of her breasts against the insides of his thighs. He leans forward, wrapping his own hands around the headboard and shifts forward, heart thudding against his ribcage as she holds his eyes and lets the head of his dick slip over her lips.  
  
There’s a thrill that shoots up his spine when she opens her lips, tongue slipping out to lick away the bead of pre-cum from the slit.  
  
He groans and shifts forward, watching as his shaft slides between her lips, head disappearing into the wet heat of her mouth.  
  
She moans, the vibration making his hips jerk reflexively and she loosens her jaw to let him push in.  
  
Part of him is still holding back but he bites it back, sees the want, the need, in her eyes as she holds his eyes. He feels her relax under him, shiver running under her skin when he takes an experimental thrust.  
  
She hollows out her cheeks and he groans, shifting forward again, stomach tightening as he watches himself, makes himself, slip in and out of her mouth.  
  
He thrusts a few more times letting his hand fall to thread through her hair before he has to pull back.  
  
She moans when he slips free, spit sliding over her bottom lip and he kisses her, tongue chasing the taste of himself in her mouth as he resituates himself between her thighs.  
  
He slips into her easily, her body open and ready and she arches into him, on the edge from just feeling him.  
  
He drags his lips down her neck and pulls out slowly, slamming back home, his body bowing to match the arch of hers when she gasps against him.  
  
He doesn’t wait for her to recover, just pulls back again and pounds back in, unrelenting roll of his hips, her moans doing nothing but urging him on.  
  
He lets his hands trail up her arms, hands circling her wrists underneath where she’s pulling against the metal cuffs and he squeezes gently, thrusting harder when she sighs and pushes back against him.  
  
This whole thing was supposed to be for him and he doesn’t try to hold back his release, lets it burn through him and into her and she follows him, body clenching around him, drawing out every tremor.  
  
He drops his head into the crook of her neck and tries to bring his breathing back to normal, her breasts pushing against his chest as she pants under him.  
  
She closes her eyes and sighs when he pulls out, can feel the stickiness between her thighs and she jolts, cuffs yanking tight when she feels his tongue against her.  
  
His eyes are locked on hers and she moans, caught off guard as he licks himself off of her,  _out of her_ , sucking and teasing her with the soft pressure, mindful of how sensitive she is.  
  
When he crawls back up to kiss her she can taste the combined taste of them, his tongue slick and coated with it and she licks it out of his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist when he groans into her lips.  
  
He kisses her softly again before pulling himself away from her and padding to the bathroom, bringing back a wash cloth a minute later and he carefully cleans her, cool terry cloth harsh against the adrenaline burn.  
  
She’s still staring at him, eyes half lidded, arms still strung up above her and he unhooks the cuffs from the bedpost first, softly sliding his fingertip over the red-blue bruise line that cuts across her wrist from where she yanked against the metal.  
  
He holds her eyes and leans down to run the tip of his tongue across the tender skin, kissing it softly before clicking the cuff open and moves to the other side to give it the same treatment.  
  
He sits down on the bed next to her and twirls the circle of metal around his finger before catching it in his palm and holding it out to study it.  
  
“Yeah…they look big enough to fit me,” he grins, shooting her a sideways look.  
  
She just laughs.


	9. Why Don't You and I

Monte loosened her jaw, letting Dean thrust in with short shallow strokes, moaning around him as he circled his tongue around her.  
  
Her leg hitched and she draped it over his shoulder, shifting her weight so she could bring her hand up to cup his balls.  
  
Dean slipped a finger inside her next to his tongue and focused on her instead of the roll of his own hips, nipping at the inside of her thigh when she swirled her tongue around his head.  
  
“Baby,” he groaned, sighing when she moaned around him.  
  
He braced himself enough so he could look up at where she was sucking him and his fingers dug into her thigh, head resting on it like a pillow and tilted his hips into her mouth.

She sucked hard, tongue flicking against the head and he growled as his release shot through him, watching the underside of her throat roll as she swallowed.  
  
She smiled lazily at him, dragging her thumb over her bottom lip to catch a bead of cum that had slipped and he closed his eyes and groaned again, shifting back around on the bed so he could focus on her.  
  
She sighed, collapsing onto her back and draped one leg over his shoulder as he crawled between her legs.

* * *

 

“You okay babe?” he grinned, licking his lips as he pulled himself back up beside her.  
  
“Shut up,” she laughed, smacking his chest half-heartedly as he bent to kiss her, hand sliding over her stomach.  
  
“You know you love me,” he grinned, rolling onto his back and letting her curl up against him as she came back down.  
  
“Uh huh,” she grinned.  
  
He chuckled and tugged on her shoulder. “Love you too babe.”  
  
“How much?” she asked a couple minutes later, her breathing finally back to normal.  
  
“What?” he asked, cracking his eyes open from where he was dozing contentedly beside her.  
  
“How much do you love me?”  
  
He just sort of stared at her for a minute.  
  
“A lot…” he said slowly, brow drawn down in confusion.  
  
“You trust me?”  
  
“Yeah…Monte what…”  
  
“How much?” she asked, sliding her leg over his waist so she could sit on his abs.  
  
“With my life,” he said softly, hands sliding up her thighs. “Why?”  
  
“Can I try something?” she said softly, but he could see hesitation in her eyes.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Something,” she mumbled, scooting herself down in between his thighs so she could stroke his cock back to hardness.  
  
He shifted, widening his legs for her.  
  
“Yeah,” he grinned, putting his hands behind his head. “If it involves junior there, hell yeah.”  
  
“Promise me something?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Don’t ever call it that again,” she grinned.  
  
He laughed, “Alright fine, what ya got in mind?”  
  
She slid her hand down his shaft, cupped his balls for a second before trailing her fingers underneath them.  
  
His hips jerked from the unfamiliar touch and his eyes locked on hers.  
  
She just stared at him in silence and he swallowed hard.  
  
“Monte…”  
  
“Think about it before you say no.”  
  
He swallowed again and relaxed back down onto the bed, sighing when she went back to stroking him gently.  
  
“You really want to?”  
  
He’d had some girls in the past try to shove a finger in him while they were going down on him but most of the time he could just manhandle them onto the bed and fuck them senseless until they couldn’t remember that they had even tried it.  
  
“I want to try,” she finally whispered.  
  
He reached down and she let him lace his fingers with hers and sat in silence while he thought about it.  
  
“Not gonna promise I’ll like it,” he finally rumbled.  
  
“I know. But some guys do.”  
  
He squeezed her hand in his and brought it back up to put behind his head.  
  
“Go ahead baby.”  
  
“Dean…”  
  
“I trust you. You know that, and if there’s  _anyone_  that I’m ever gonna try this with it’s you. So…yeah,” he swallowed. “We can try.”  
  
She crawled back up to kiss him, sighing against his lips when he slid his fingers into her hair.  
  
“You wanna stop and you tell me, okay?” she whispered, lips grazing his as she stared at him.  
  
“Promise baby,” he rumbled.  
  
He put his hand back behind his head and watched her as she grabbed the pillow next to him.  
  
He lifted his hips without a word and let her stuff it underneath him and then closed his eyes and tilted his head back.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
“I’m okay,” he grinned, cracking an eye open at her. “It’s okay.”  
  
She nodded and ran her tongue over her bottom lip before taking his cock in her hand again.  
  
He sighed, letting himself relax under her hands as she stroked him. He did trust her and he meant what he said, Monte was the only person he’d ever allow try this. Ever allow himself to relax enough around  _to_  try this.  
  
Her hands were slow and sure, pleasure rolling through him in a slow burn and he groaned, shifting his legs for her when she moved to lay on her stomach, her elbows digging into the mattress as her hands kept moving over his skin.  
  
He wasn’t really expecting the hot wet heat of her mouth to close around his head and he groaned again low in his throat and pushed up into it.  
  
She smiled awkwardly around him, looking up at him for a minute before sliding down, rolling the heavy weight of his balls in her free hand and he went boneless, just laid back and let her do whatever she wanted.  
  
He felt her shift and cracked his eyes open to see her stretch over to the end table and grab the lube they kept there. He couldn’t help the reflexive swallow of his throat but he offered her a small smile when her eyes snapped to his.  
  
“I’m good,” he rumbled, deep in his chest as he let his own hand trail down to circle his shaft and stroke slowly, the soft skin still slick with her spit.  
  
Her fingers slipped beside his for a minute, slicking up his shaft and hand with the lube she had squirted on her fingers before laying back down on her stomach, lube-cool fingers dragging down over his balls.  
  
He inhaled sharply at the sudden temperature change and she immediately pulled back.  
  
He smirked. He was half amused at how jumpy she was, but the other half was left with this warm, hazy around the edges loved feeling, knowing that the second he even started to  _voice_  the word ‘no’ she would stop.  
  
“It’s okay baby,” he smiled, taking her small wrist in his hand and bringing it back to cup the velvet skin between his legs.  
  
She laughed nervously, dropping her head and he smiled at the red the burned up her cheeks.  
  
“It’s okay baby,” he said again. “I’ll let you know if I need to slow down or stop, okay? Otherwise just…do what you want to sweetheart.”  
  
She smirked, cheeks still burned pinked and nodded at him, fingers slipping into the crease where his balls connected to his body and he winked at her, leaving his hand around his dick and leaned his head back again.  
  
The contrast between the cool lube and the heat of her mouth had him jerking when she bent to run her tongue over the soft skin.  
  
Her tongue was hot and wet when she trailed it over his fingers where they were wrapped around the base of his shaft and it distracted him enough that he didn’t startle when the tip of her finger brushed against the tight ring of muscle.  
  
His hips did jerk when the tentative graze of her finger was replaced with the heat of the tip of her tongue.  
  
“Jesus,” he hissed, hips stuttering and he inhaled sharply when she paused.  
  
Her free hand was resting on his hip and he slid his own hand over top of it and squeezed, silently letting her know he was okay.  
  
He felt her shaky breath against his skin before she took another slow lick and he couldn’t help but groan deep in his throat, handing tightening around hers.  
  
Encouraged by his reactions she swirled her tongue, sealing her lips around the ring to suck a quick kiss before teasing the entrance with the tip of her tongue.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered, hips twitching up into the touch.   
  
It was completely weird but damn if he didn’t like it and the fact that it was something new had a spike of heat shooting up his spine.  
  
He was biting back a whimper, ‘cause like hell he was going to make a sound like that, when she pulled back and went back to sweeping her finger over the wet skin.  
  
Her hand squeezed in his and she pushed, letting the tip of her finger breach his body.  
  
He immediately clamped down, muscles fighting against the strange sensation.  
  
“Sshh,” she whispered, “Let me in Dean.”  
  
He inhaled sharp, trying to will himself to relax and gasped when he felt her finger slide deeper into him.  
  
“Shit…stop, hold on…”  
  
“No, trust me Dean, it’s better if you just keep moving,” she said softly, stroking in and out a couple of times, his body loosening around her finger and he sighed, chest heaving.  
  
“God…this what it feels like when I do this to you?”  
  
He felt her smile against his skin before she kissed the inside of his thigh.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” he mumbled, hand stroking his shaft slowly as she worked her finger deeper into him.  
  
He felt her nudge a second beside the first and his body clamped down again.  
  
He squeezed her hand in silence and inhaled again. He’d fucked her in the ass more than once and if she could take his cock he could damn well take a couple fingers.  
  
She slid the second in beside the first and worked up a smooth slow rhythm. He let himself relax into the soft pressure. It was strange, but not unpleasant really, just…different.  
  
Before long he was shifting his hips between the circle of his fist and the slide of he fingers, his stomach tightening against the slow burn of pleasure through his muscles.  
  
She kissed the inside of his thigh again and his knee jerked as she crooked her finger.  
  
“Jesus, wha…what the hell…”  
  
She rubbed whatever spot it was inside him again, soft circular movement and he jerked, torn between pulling away and shoving down harder onto her hand.  
  
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Monte…what…”  
  
“It’s your prostate,” she said softly, looking up at him as she still swirled her fingers inside him.  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” he breathed, letting his head thump back as he squeezed his dick tighter.  
  
“Oh god,” he groaned, stroking faster as she leaned forward to suck on his balls, fingers still moving inside him.  
  
Her hand squeezed on his hip and he growled deep in his throat as his release tore through him.  
  
“Fuck, fuck… _god_ ,” he hissed, fist squeezing as he tugged on his cock, hips stuttering on her hand.  
  
“Shit…baby, stop…I can’t…” he said in between gulps of air.  
  
She pulled out slowly and rolled off the bed.  
  
His chest was still heaving when she came back a moment later with a soft wash cloth.  
  
“Fuck,” he hissed, tossing it to the side when he was finished and shifted enough so she could curl up next to him.  
  
“You knew about that didn’t you?” he breathed.  
  
She kissed his nipple and smiled. “Maybe.”  
  
He laughed and tugged on her shoulder, bringing her closer to his side.  
  
She propped her chin up on his chest and stared at him with wide eyes.  
  
He smirked and craned his neck to kiss her, his hand running through her hair when he pulled back.  
  
“It was good,” he rumbled.  
  
Her cheeks burned and she looked away with a grin.  
  
“Oh come on,” he laughed, “It was your idea. I’m just saying…I…I liked it.”  
  
She looked back up at him, arm wrapping around his waist.  
  
“Maybe next time we could bust out one of you, um,” he cleared his throat, “toys.”  
  
She just laughed at him.  
  
“Next time huh?” she grinned.  
  
He shrugged his shoulder and smirked at her.  
  
“Told you babe, wasn’t bad,” he grinned. “So yeah…if you want to, again, sometime…I’m game.”  
  
She smirked and pulled him into another kiss.


	10. Catch the Horizon

He loves having a home…he really does. But a lifetime of wanderlust, asphalt and engines doesn’t die with the turn of a key.  
  
Monte’s still awake, watching TV in the living room, the door to the garage open, letting the early summer breeze wash in.  
  
Dean’s out in the garage, no real point really, just sort of misses his girl. He still drives her everyday, but little jaunts around town are hardly the same as letting her open on the highway. And their hunts once or twice a month do more harm than good when it comes to needing to feel the road.  
  
The garage door is open and he just sort of stares outside, night black and quiet. The summer heat hasn’t really sunk in yet. Well, it has during the day at least, but not deep enough to bleed into the night and they’ve got the windows open in the house, just enjoying their little slice of silence.

Dean can hear the grass rustle across the street, grown up just a little too tall on the edge of the lake. The county crew will be by soon to chop it back down but for now it just whispers to him in the dark. Memories of acres of wheat fields and long stretches of cornfields and cow pastures coming back to him so swift and strong that he swears he can smell the grain and earth.  
  
His hand trails over the black of the hood, fingers coming away clean from the freshly washed surface, he had scrubbed her down just yesterday, but his stomach does this crazy jump flutter thing when he realizes he kind of misses the golden glaze of road dirt.  
  
The breeze dances by again, seeping though his t-shirt, swirling some leaves in the driveway and he can hear them scrape across the concrete.  
  
He sees Monte turn around on the couch when he grabs the keys, jingle in his hand that sounds a lot like freedom but he doesn’t offer an explanation just gets into the Impala, breathes in clean leather and a hint of metal and fires her up, deep purr soothing him like the best kind of lullaby.  
  
It’s risky, going out this late, the cops always like to lurk after midnight. But then again none of them in this little town have ever been able to catch him. Besides, once he’s past city limits the county troopers are few and far between.  
  
He sees Monte lean against the doorframe, arms crossed as he backs out of the garage. He just sort of smirks at her and she smiles back and he knows she understands what he’s doing, she’s got the same itch to run he has. It’s like some sort of disease born from too many miles behind the wheel, too many hours under the hood. He doesn’t really want to be cured.  
  
His life is ticked off by miles of the odometer and almost all of them have been in the Impala. Running like this, black steel under blacker sky, just sort of feels like coming home.  
  
He’s got the windows down, radio silent, just listening to the rumble of the engine and he swears he can hear her ask permission to run. He leans back, muscles lax in the seat, feeling the crunch of broken asphalt and gravel under the tires and eases her out of town.  
  
He stays at the stop sign just a moment longer than he really needs to, but he loves to hear the growl of the engine bounce off the tree line and come back to him.  
  
He finally gets her out on the two-lane out of town, deserted stretch of yellow lines and he opens her up. Feels the pull of the engine, driveshaft spinning and the kiss of rubber against road. He’s got one hand on the wheel, easy sway as the two tons of pure Detroit steel float down the road, hum of wind in his ears.  
  
It’s the times like this he feels like if he just pushed her a little harder there would be no way she wouldn’t be able to catch the horizon.  
  
He pulls into an abandoned shopping center, foot barely grazing the brake as he makes the turn and throws her weight into a couple donuts in the empty parking lot, just to feel the slip-slide of power getting away from him, cutting him back down to size at the feel of her taking it out of his hands, thrilling rush of loosing control. Muscles instinctively tensing in time, thigh, stomach, shoulders, body immediately rolling with the motion of the car, keeping him centered.  
  
The headlights cut into the dark and he’s feeling pretty relaxed and euphoric, breath coming in a hard soothing way when he hears the answering growl of an engine and sees the faint glow in the rearview.  
  
Normally his eyes would be seeking out the blue strobe but he knows the rumble just as well as the growl under him.  
  
Monte’s car shines yellow gold under the half moon as she pulls up next to him and smiles.  
  
“You wanna go?” she asks and he grins.  
  
She doesn’t ask if he’s okay because she knows he’s fine. Doesn’t ask if he’s ready to go home because she knows he’s not and she’s just as ready as he is to put her foot to the floorboard.  
  
He can just see her, cruising her way out of town a few minutes after him. Deliberate hesitation making sure he had his own moment of peace before meeting up with him.  
  
She smiles back and he listens to the purr of her car as she circles around behind him, letting him lead the way back to the highway.  
  
He drives a couple miles down and stops dead, staring straight ahead as she pulls up beside him.  
  
There’s a moment of night silence, rustle of the weeds in the fields around them, empty country stretched out in all directions and he lets the dual growl of the Chevy engines wash over him.  
  
He smirks, muddled memory of little Sammy seeing Exxon’s old time tiger commercials. Remembers having to listen to him ask their Dad for a straight month if they had a tiger in  _their_  tank. If that’s why the Impala sounded so much meaner than the other cars on the road.  
  
He chuckles to himself and looks over at Monte to see her looking at him with confusion and a smirk on her face.  
  
He just shakes his head and smiles, turns back to the road, foot teasing the gas, feeling the car lurch, soft twist of the frame as the torque tears through the car. Purr of the engine revving up into a roar for a split second.  
  
He smiles as Monte copies him, engine following his in a twisted harmony of metal and gasoline.  
  
He’d take this song over classic rock any day.  
  
They’ve done this before but he’s still not sure how she knows when exactly to push it, when to let her foot drop. Front end of her car rearing forward as the tires dig in, perfect timing with his own take off, chrome bumper even with her painted counterpart racing down the black road, headlights clicked on bright, burning the road in front of them.  
  
When he finally glances down the red needle is hovering around a hundred even, steady crawl upwards as the engine whines, the carburetor opening up and dumping in more gas as she pushes to give him more.  
  
Monte’s still right beside him, her own car screaming into the dark and he heaves in a breath, laughing just to be laughing and his head spins around as he hears the rubber of tires squeal as Monte slams the brakes.  
  
He sees the nose of her car dive, steel and aluminum trying to come down from the speed. But she pulls back for just the split second it takes for him to pass her and then her car’s turning, rubber screeching as the weight rocks into the turn, the car bouncing as it goes over the edge of the road mowing over the weeds of the field next to them.  
  
He can hear her laughing through their downed windows and their babies might not be 4x4s but he laughs right along with her and cuts his car to the right to follow her.  
  
Their lights dance through the grass and they drive just for the hell of it, sliding their cars into the dirt just to feel them shift.  
  
Their both laughing, loud carefree sound threading its way between the bass of the engines and the whisper of the grass as they cut through it.  
  
He sees Monte hit a patch of sand, her back end sliding out from under her, swinging wild as a spray of grey dust flies out the back and clear up over the roof of her car.  
  
He laughs, cutting the Impala back to circle around her, sudden splash of a mud puddle arching up the side.  
  
It’s a twisted dance with eight wheels and some 600 odd mechanical horses and all Dean can think about is the cops that will come out in the morning and stare at the makeshift crop circles their gouging into the land.  
  
He finally lets off the gas, roar falling from wide open to an idle as he lets the speed and weight of the car curl and swerve to a stop and Monte’s not too far behind, her fender coming to rest in his high beams.  
  
He smiles at her through the windshield and she grins back, sweeps a stray strand of hair back behind her ear and eases her car back around his and up to the road.  
  
The ride back home is quiet and easy, having gotten the need to run out of their system, they’re both content to just  _ride._  
  
The pull into the garage at the same time, side by side like they’ve always been and Dean tosses his keys onto the tool bench when Monte unfolds herself from her seat.  
  
There’s a gleam in her eye that he recognizes and he stalks forward, fisting his hand in her t-shirt to kiss her.  
  
He swears he can taste the wind, smooth bite of metal and dust and really…this is all the home he’s ever needed.


End file.
